The Muse of Fate
by Quwinntessa Starber
Summary: ADULT!!! A prophecy brings a new student to Hogwarts who befriends Hermione. Meanwhile, Severus and Hermione stuggle with a growing attraction to each other. Detailed description in Warning YOU MUST READ THE WARNING PAGE!
1. Prologue

Prologue:  
  
"No, Severus! Sirius would never betray Lily and James!" Mellisson Snape tore around the corner after her husband, her waist long white hair trailing behind her lithe form. "Sirius would never turn to Voldemort!"  
  
In one smooth movement, Severus Snape, double agent spy for Albus Dumbledore, rounded on his wife, bringing his hands to grip her shoulders painfully. In the background of the storm, he heard his one-year-old daughter begin to cry. "Mellisson, this is not some game, and no matter how much you wish it otherwise, what I have said is true, it's already done in fact. Sirius has betrayed Lily, and Voldemort even now is preparing to go after Harry! Mellisson," he shook her harder than he had intended. "If I do not warn them, they will die! Voldemort will stop at nothing to kill Potter, you know that! He'll stop at nothing to kill Harry, to kill Lily's son!"  
  
Her heart racing, her shoulders aching under his crushing grip, Mellisson looked deep into her husband's eyes and saw the truth. Desperate hands sought purchase on something, and they moved up to grip the deceptively strong biceps of her twenty year old husband, her shaking hands just inches from his shoulder length, jet black hair. "Severus—"  
  
At the terror in her voice, Severus pulled his wife into his arms, crushing her to his chest, holding onto her for all that he was.  
  
"Severus, that murder cannot kill Harry. L-Lily would never recover." Her voice was quite now, whispers against his chest as she searched out his embrace for something to take the terror away.  
  
"Lily might not have the chance. Listen to me Mellisson!" He pushed her from him roughly, his deep black eyes penetrating into her pale blue ones, so much like the color of her animagus form. "I know we have not always agreed on my role in this war, and when I am finished you and I and Morganna will be little better than the Potters. We'll need to leave, to go into hiding. Once I warn James, Voldemort will know who I'm really working for, who I've been working for since the beginning!  
  
"Gather everything you can; leave nothing you'll regret not having later. We'll never make it back to this house while it's in any semblance of shape. Voldemort will come here to kill me as soon as he realizes that James isn't where Black told him. Get Morganna and all her things, be ready when I get back!"  
  
He pulled away then, ready to Apparate, when her desperate hands clutched the sleeves of his black robe. "Severus, where will you go?! You don't even know where James and Lily are, no one knows except Sirius and now Voldemort, that's the idea of a Secret Keeper! How will you warn them?!"  
  
Turning back to her, he spared her no smile, only the harsh sting of his cold voice. "Dumbledore, I'll go to him. There isn't anything that goes on with Harry that he isn't a part of." He turned again to Apparate, but this time when Mellisson wrapped her arms about his left one and held on for all her might, he understood.  
  
Again he took her into his arms, nuzzling his nose into her hair and breathing deeply of her scent. She was a mixture of the snow, of cold winter days by a frozen lake, and she was Madam J's Baby Powder, in a smell that reminded him his daughter was still crying in the baby room. He held her close for as long as he could, far longer than he should have under the circumstances.  
  
Eventually he couldn't wait any longer. Pulling back he leaned down, kissing the woman he'd promised to love for the rest of his life—far longer ago than the day they were married. Her mouth was desperate to possess his, to hold onto him for just one moment longer, and as the kiss itself deepened, he crushed her body to his, running his fingers up into the glorious silk of her beautiful white, blond hair.  
  
When not even air could be denied, he pulled back, breathing deeply, the feel of her breasts heaving through the fabric of their robes. His hands moved from her back to encompass her face, bringing her eyes up to meet his. "I always knew there was a possibility that Voldemort would find us—"  
  
She interrupted him, the cold steel of her eyes flashing in a moment of indignant anger. "I knew what I was getting into when I married you! You know how much I hate it—especially after Morganna was born. But I understand why you're doing it, I've always understood. While everyone else in the world thinks Severus Snape is Death Eater scum, I knew you were five times braver than the great Auror James Potter! But I knew you're deception would one day find you, find us! I knew and now I'm ready for it!" She pulled him down by his neck, pressing her lips hard against his, forcing them both into a kiss that they knew was for good-bye as she prepared to let him go to Dumbledore.  
  
She pushed him away from her, and he knew at least part of that act was so she didn't cling to him again. "Go, Severus. I'll get Morganna and all of our things together. I'll be ready by the time you get back." He nodded, turning to go when she called out to him. "Severus, just promise me one thing."  
  
He closed his eyes briefly, knowing few promises could be made under such circumstances. "Anything, my love."  
  
"Promise me no matter what else, you'll take care of yourself, and you'll take care of Morganna. Promise me, Severus!" A note of desperation entered her voice and he felt the call to comfort her so strong he had to turn away.  
  
"I swear it to you, Mellisson. I will come back for you and Morganna, and I will never let any harm, from Voldemort or anyone else, come to our daughter."  
  
Behind him came only silence. Knowing haste should have already propelled him into Dumbledore's office but that he could leave now without seeing her, Severus turned, bounding up the massive stairs in the entrance way—the sound of his wife's navy blue robes right behind him. At the top he turned to the right, barreling down the hallway until he came to the last door and threw it open. He walked through their bedroom, the massive oak canopy bed draped in velvet barely catching his notice. One more door was pulled aside, and there she was, short black hair and pale blue eyes staring back at him from tear stained cheeks as she stood supported against the hand carved crib wall.  
  
She was the most precious thing in his life, his miracle. Not a day passed when he didn't wonder how Mellisson had seen through his cold personality to find a man she's willingly make a father. Morganna's tiny hands reached out for him, and in three quick strides he had her from the crib and in his arms, cooing to her softly, doing his best to sooth her. He watched as Mellisson moved to begin her packing in this room.  
  
Lowering the pitch of his voice, he talked soothingly to his daughter, wasting valuable time in this one last selfish act. "Morganna, shhhh. It's going to be alright. Daddy's going to find us all a nice new place to live. When I get back, you, me and mummy are all going to a brand new place. And would you like to know what else? I bet Harry will get to come and visit you! Yes, I bet he will! And aunt Lily and," he looked over to catch his wife's smiling face, and gave an only slightly mocking scowl. "And Uncle James too. Mummy's going to be packing a lot of things, so you watch her use her wand for a little while so you can grow up to be a great witch just like Mummy, OK?" He lifted her so he could see her face, see the brightness of her eyes, the softness of her skin, and the red marks on her cheeks from her past tears. But she was smiling now, reaching her hands out to touch his just slightly too large nose. She caught it and held on.  
  
Smiling, he turned to his wife, his voice nasally from her grip. "You know, she gets that from you."  
  
Mellisson shrugged. "It's sometimes the only way to shut you up." Now she reached out for Morganna, and with one last kiss to her warm cheek, he passed her over. "Hurry, Severus, whatever I don't have time to pack we don't need."  
  
"Money is not a concern, Mellisson, remember that. Take only the sentimental things, only things galleons can't buy, we'll replace the rest later." She nodded, tears in her eyes which she fought desperately not to allow to fall. His hand came immediately to her cheek, his other to the back of Morganna's head. "I have never once broken a promise to you, Mellisson. I will return for the both of you." She nodded again, and with nothing more to say, he stepped back and Apparated to Dumbledore.  
  
Finally allowing the tears to fall, Mellisson shifted her only child to her hip and swiped desperately at her cheeks for the falling moisture. When she looked back, it was into the studying eyes of her one-year-old daughter.  
  
"Morganna, Mummy thinks Daddy's wrong, you might have my eyes, but you certainly have Daddy's look." Sweeping her daughter back into the crib, she moved once more about the room, shrinking those momentos she could not live without, and worrying constantly for her husband and her best friend Lily.  
  
Around her the great castle that was home to every master of the Snape bloodline since man first began to call themselves wizards, was silent, the only sounds coming from the plastic toys that Lily had insisted all babies needed. Morganna played happily with the wobbly little men that bounced back no matter how hard she pushed them. Mellisson couldn't help but stop to watch her daughter at play in a moment of wasted time.  
  
She remembered the shocked expression on Severus's face when she finally worked up the courage to tell the reluctant man that he was going to be a father. He hadn't really wanted children, especially because of his role as a double agent, and secretly because of the abuse he feared he'd pass on from his own upbringing. But the pregnancy had been unplanned, and she had been so happy. She recalled her voice had shook as she told him, already having brought his hand to rest lightly against her belly. And his eyes, his eyes always told the truth of him if only one looked hard enough, those had been filled with so much apprehension, and yet, a joy so profound she had never once seen its like.  
  
Sighing, Mellisson moved from the nursery to the master bedroom. More time conscious now that she was away from her daughter, the longhaired woman flew into action. Drawers were pulled open, clothing rummaged through. The basic necessities were gather, but she understood Severus's words. When Dumbledore found them a safe house, there would be plenty of money to replace the material possessions they would lose.  
  
She raced to the closet, quickly shrinking her handfasting dress, and on impulse both Severus and her old Hogwarts' robes. Shoes were quickly reduced and the now miniature articles were thrown into an old shoe box. She took nothing of the jewelry she'd been given as her right as Severus's wife, instead taking only the few pieces he'd given her since their courtship and marriage.  
  
She called back to Morganna that she'd be right back and then tore across the room to the door. Racing down the hallway, she stopped to consider taking some of the more beautiful antiques, but quickly moved on. Severus had not wanted them to live in this house, surrounded by things that reminded him of his parents. Only his need to keep up bloodline appearances for the Death Eaters had caused him to come back here. She recalled how he had adamantly refused to have them spend their first night in his parent's old bed, now vacant since their deaths five years ago. She'd come from a very poor family, but had petitioned her parents to indulge her one expensive thing. The bed had been their handfasting present to the new couple.  
  
Bypassing article after article, she moved quickly down the stairs; their wedding and picture albums were in the family room at the back of the house.  
  
At the bottom of the stairs, she whipped around the corner and slammed into someone very large and very short.  
  
Crying out, she stepped back, and before her very eyes was none other than Peter Pettigrew, his eyes somewhat cold, but mostly nervous.  
  
"Hello, Mellisson."  
  
And she knew! Knew like she just sometimes knew things, like her daughter would one day know as well--it wasn't Sirius who betrayed the Potters, it was Peter. With a cry she pulled her wand from her robes and pointed it at his chest. Peter had always been slower than the rest, but he'd already had his wand out. With one word, Mellisson's wand flew from her hands and into Peter's. But the fool looked up to catch it, and during that quick time of distraction, Mellisson turned and ran for the stairs.  
  
Heart beating wildly, she pushed her muscles to carry her terrified form up the staircase that suddenly had far too many stairs. Panicking, desperate to reach her daughter, to protect Morganna, her foot caught in her floor length velvet robes and she fell in the middle. It was enough time. With a call from Peter, she felt the unforgivable Cruciatus curse race into every fiber of her body. Every muscle, every cell, constricted, while at the same time, her insides seemed to expand, the duality causing more torture to the body than even Morganna's birth.  
  
She screamed, terror racing with the cramps that accompanied the curse. She wanted to die, wanted at that moment to beg for death, but something inside her told her she could not. She had to fight, she had no choice, Peter Pettigrew the traitor was here, and he was going to kill her daughter.  
  
How she managed it she'd never know. In the full grip of the Cruciatus curse, she managed to begin a slow but deliberate crawl up the stairs. She knew why he was here, knew that Voldemort had learned of Severus's betrayal, and knew, without doubt, that Voldemort had finally figured out just who Alseeonae Morganna Snape was.  
  
Behind her convulsing form, Peter swore, and at the rustle of his robes, she knew he was preparing to cast the curse again. She didn't know what to do, didn't know how she was going to get her daughter away from this man, this traitor to both herself and Lily.  
  
A brilliant flash of inspiration hit her, and with all the acting skills she'd used as a Death Eater's wife, she gave a cry, a moan, and then crumpled to the stairs, hoping to buy herself some time to recover from the after effects of the curse. It worked beautifully, behind her Peter drew a great sigh, and then moved around her body, up the stairs and down the hallway. He was going to hurt Morganna!  
  
She willed her body to recover faster, wishing desperately that she had a bit of chocolate to ease the pain. Resigned to the fact that she had nothing, she waited in terror as she heard her bedroom door close.  
  
Now, more afraid then ever that Pettigrew was only yards from her only child, Mellisson stood, resisting the call of her body to just lay down, to rest a little longer. She used her arms to pull herself up the stairs, one step after another sending jolts of pain to her brain that she refused to notice.  
  
At the top of the stairs, she heard the most terrifying sound she had ever heard, a sound that reached into her chest and threatened to shred her soul—the sound of her baby screaming under the Cruciatus curse.  
  
Not stopping to consider, not giving a single notice to the long forgotten pain of her muscles, Mellisson raced down the hallway, the pain filled screams of Morganna filling her ears until she could hear nothing else, see nothing else but the sound of her daughter's cries.  
  
She didn't stop in her bedroom, only bounded into the nursery and tackled Pettigrew, not baring to look at the arching form of a baby that had not yet even taken her first step. Her hands balled into fists just as Sirius Black had once shown her and Lily on the grass by the lake at Hogwarts. She rained blow after blow to the face of the man that would dare harm a child—her child!  
  
Mellisson never even heard him approach the nursery door. "Mellisson, your husband has been a very, very, bad man." She felt Cruciatus slam into her again as her eyes turned and locked on Lucius Malfoy's.  
  
Convulsing and crying out, she remembered clearly the moment Morganna's cries stopped, remembered the seconds of her own painfully spasming body in terms of the time it would take for Morganna to cry out in fear of past pain and the strangers. But the cry didn't come, and suddenly, Mellisson knew, her baby was dead.  
  
Not Cruciatus, not Pettigrew, not even Lucius could stop her. Racked with pain she again ignored, Mellisson stood, stumbling to the crib to look down at the pain etched face of her baby girl. Turning, to face the murders, her hands into claws, she took a step towards the small shaking man, and the cold calculating one.  
  
"Avada Kedavra." Came the coldness of old money and superiority.  
  
The light left Malfoy's outstretched wand, and slammed into Mellisson's poised body. The force pushed the now dead body back, slamming it into the crib, sending both mother and daughter under the debree of the now crushed masterpiece.  
  
Nothing from the crib moved.  
  
With a cool smile Malfoy turned, indicating the mess on his way out the door. "Make sure Alseeonae is dead." Then, to himself, "Poor, poor Severus Snape, what good is Harry Potter's Fatemuse if she's dead?" He stopped by the wall next to the nursery door, and with a wave of his wand, carved the mark of Voldemort before Apparating.  
  
Pettigrew turned, his terrified eyes looking down into those lifeless blue ones that had once called him friend. The way she'd fallen, the way her body had slammed into the crib, the baby, the little girl with jet black hair that had been instructed to call him Uncle Peter was crushed by the wood of the crib and her mother's body.  
  
Shaking, Pettigrew moved to shove Mellisson's body away to check the child, the little girl with jet black hair so much like her father's, eyes a nearly white blue color, so much like her mother's…which now stared up at him accusingly.  
  
He pulled his hand back as if he'd been hit with a repelling charm. There was no way Alseeonae could have survived both the Cruciatus curse and the slamming weight of oak wood and her mother's body. The wood might have splintered, might have pushed through her delicate little body, puncturing it like a fork into bread. No, she couldn't have survived that, and he wasn't going to look—he couldn't look into eyes that had been instructed to call him Uncle Peter.  
  
With one final strangled sob, Peter Pettigrew Apparated away from the horrors of Snape Manor and into a dark ally on a busy London street.  
  
* * *  
  
Owls were already coming in, heads, already popping out of the fire in panic—the Potter's were dead, he'd been too late. Severus allowed himself a few seconds alone as the Aurors made their final report. James and Lily Potter were dead, and there was no sign of Voldemort. And Harry, poor baby Harry, the reason for all of this, could not be found. Had Voldemort taken him? No one knew.  
  
Covering his face with his hands, Severus tried desperately not to think of the little baby boy who had played with Morganna only a month ago. He tried not to remember that he'd feed the child himself as he'd sat before both babies with a bowl of food. Then he tried not to think of Lily, her brilliant red hair floating on the wind as she sat next to Mellisson talking animatedly. He tried to forget her smile, because he knew he'd never see it again. And James, his rival from Hogwarts, they might not have ever called themselves friends, but they'd reached an understanding to hate each other in silence, and now Severus wished they'd found a way. James had been so full of life, Lily as well. He reasoned it was at least a blessing that they weren't alive to know their son was missing. He couldn't imagine the pain of that.  
  
A sudden commotion started back in the main room, and with a sigh, he moved back into the main headquarters, ready to offer his assistance if he could. He knew they had wanted him to stay, hoping he could offer insight into where Voldemort might go with baby Harry, but a desperate need to get back to his own family had him itching to Apparate back to the estate.  
  
As he came back into the room, he noticed only Dumbledore was talking. "- ere may be hope yet! We've just gotten word that there is crying coming from the Potter's house. It may very well be that Harry is indeed alive!" A whoop of joy filled the crowd, but Severus could only wait in silence, praying to the Goddess that just this once she'd show mercy.  
  
It was a long five minutes for the owl report. When the large barn owl flew through the window, every conversation in the room fell silent. The magnificent bird perched itself before Dumbledore and held out its leg, which bore a note that looked surprising like it was written upon a napkin.  
  
In silence they watched as the face of their hope fell before them, as the man so many would have followed to their deaths had to cover his own mouth in horror. Normally kind eyes closed for a long moment before he opened them again, tears threatening, and looked through the crowd at Severus Snape.  
  
He knew in that instant, the message had nothing to do with young Harry Potter.  
  
"Severus, the Manor…screams have been reported from Snape Manor."  
  
For a long horrifying moment he did nothing, could not process the thing he'd just been told.  
  
Mad-Eye Moody's hands came instantly to his shoulders and shook him violently. "Severus! Snape! Now's not the time! Hurry, I'll Apparate with you!"  
  
Apparate where?  
  
And then, it crashed into him with the force of a dragon's tail. Screaming from Snape Manor, screaming from the home he'd left Mellisson and Morganna in only twenty minutes ago. An owl can only fly so fast. The message must have originally gone to Ministry headquarter. That means, it could have taken nearly the full twenty minutes just to get here!  
  
Oh goddess, Morganna!  
  
Without another thought he Apparated, the familiar tug in every direction didn't even register in his mind. He was in the entrance way, the sound of Moody's pop drowned out by the frantic sound of his own voice.  
  
"MELLISSON! MELLISSON!!!" He ran into the living room, hoping his wife's lack of returned call came from the fact that she had moved deeper into the house. He screamed again, his voice joined by Moody's.  
  
A large hand spun him around. "I'll take the down stairs, you go check on your daughter!"  
  
Not bothering to question the order, Severus tore back into the entrance way and up the staircase. He didn't stop his calling, but now changed it to his daughter's name, not the name everyone knew her as, but the name reserved only for family and close friends, as dictated by tradition.  
  
"MORGANNA! Morganna, sweetheart can you hear me?!" He threw open the bedroom door, ran past the great velvet draped bed, and moved to the white door of the nursery.  
  
Mellisson had wanted the nursery painted pink when she'd learned she was having a girl, but he had refused that idea, and so they'd settled on the neutral shade of white. That was his immediate thought upon seeing his wife's lifeless eyes, her body broken over that of the crib.  
  
"…mellisson…" He watched his body move towards hers as if from somewhere other than his mind. He watched himself fall to his knees, watched his hands smooth her beautiful hair from her pale moon-glow skin. He saw himself lean down to brush his lips against hers, and saw himself shiver when he realized that her body was still warm to the touch. He saw all of this before he spoke again.  
  
"I promised I'd come home."  
  
"By the four gods!" Moody's voice seemed to propel Severus back into his body, seemed to entomb him so that the only thing he could see was the beautiful light blues of Mellisson's eyes. He couldn't bring himself to close them, he couldn't bear to touch her!  
  
With a cry he dropped her body, his hands, which had been wrapped about her let go, and he recoiled, flinging himself from his kneeling position to face away from the sight of his wife for the first time since entering the room.  
  
"Snape—" Moody didn't get a chance to finish.  
  
Facing away from the horrific sight, Severus was now staring directly at the name of the creature who had killed his wife, his true love. The Death Eater symbol was scorched upon the wall, and seemingly burned in right behind it was the glowing letter 'V'.  
  
Voldemort.  
  
"I'll kill the monster myself!" Rage as never before took control of him, and he would have flown out of the room to find Voldemort if Moody had not restrained him.  
  
"Think man! No one knows where the bastard is! There have been no sightings of him since the Potter's and that had to be after this!" Severus let out a little whimper at the reminder of Mellisson's body behind his. "Severus, Harry is gone, what about Alseeonae? What about your daughter?! Is she here, did you find her body?"  
  
"Morganna?" His daughter. His precious, beautiful, bright, daughter. Slowly, he turned, his face coming once again towards his wife's body…crashed upon the oak crib he'd carved himself. Morganna had been in that crib right before he'd left.  
  
"Gods below, Morganna!" He threw himself down upon he floor, shoving his wife's body aside, forgotten, as he lifted the side of the crib and searched desperately under the pink and white blankets for his daughter, all the while screaming her name.  
  
"Morganna! Morganna! Can you hear me sweetheart? Can you hear Daddy, Morganna? Morganna!"  
  
When he found her, the tears began to fall. Her tiny baby face was constricted in a grimace of pain so horrific he couldn't help the sobs that began to shake his entire frame.  
  
There was blood everywhere, the white blankets by her head of matted black hair were dark brown compared to the pink surrounding them. She didn't move, when he picked her up, didn't cry when he pulled her broken body into his chest and rocked them both, calling her name as he moved to sit beside the body of his wife.  
  
He didn't notice when Moody left him alone to guard the door, didn't notice when later Albus Apparated before him, followed closely by his mediwitch friend Poppy Pomfrey. He didn't notice when Albus pulled him up and away from Mellisson's body, didn't care when he led them from the room. Nothing mattered, but the broken body of his baby girl, clutched desperately in his arms.  
  
When the kind Poppy tried to take the baby from him, he screamed, clutching Morganna even more tightly to his chest, crushing her already broken bones even more in his desperation to keep her close to him.  
  
The room stopped silent when they realized that after the sound of Severus's curses ended, there was the tiny protest of a painful whimper.  
  
None of them moved, and yet the sound continued, and Severus noticed that the sound itself was accompanied by the ever so halted and shaking movements of the tiny little baby in his arms. His sobs intensified as he pulled his arms away from his chest. Watched helplessly as his daughter's head rolled back against the palms of his hands—stopped dead in his tracks, when her tiny lip trembled and the sound came once again from her chest.  
  
A tiny whimper.  
  
"…morganna…"  
  
Things happened too quickly for him to follow after that. Dumbledore was speaking, then holding him back as Poppy tried again to take Morganna from him. A quick bind spell later and Morganna and Poppy where gone, and Dumbledore was shaking him, telling him they had to Apparate to St. Mungo's now, that Morganna was alive but just barely. The next thing he knew he was waiting, his body sitting stiffly in a chair outside the operating room, his shirt and hands still covered with the blood of his one year old daughter.  
  
Beside him, Dumbledore sat scribbling messages on pads of paper and tying one after the other to the legs of the owls that were now lined up six deep. Dumbledore had been speaking beside him, but nothing made it through the fog that inhabited his brain, his eyes flashing continuously back to the eyes of his dead wife, and the crushed limbs of his beautiful daughter.  
  
"Severus!" A jab to his shoulder finally caught his attention, and with pain filled eyes he turned to look at his mentor and the man that had raised him after his parents deaths. "I said that I have just received word that they are still searching for Voldemort, but contacts inside the Death Eaters have said he is late returning. Also, wherever he is, he at least failed. We received word right after…you left, that Harry is indeed alive. Hagrid has him now. Severus," Dumbledore turned, taking the father's hand into his own. "Harry's still alive and so is Morganna, that means we still have a chance, there's still a way to defeat him. Voldemort will pay for what he's done, Severus, I give you my word on that!" There was a fire behind Dumbledore's eyes and Severus knew there was still hope, but under the circumstances, he didn't dare wish for anything besides his daughter's full recovery.  
  
His reply stated that fact very clearly. "She's so tiny, Albus. She's always been so tiny. I kept thinking she should eat more, but Mellisson would just chastise me and tell me Morganna was fine. But she was so small. Do you remember when she was born, when Mellisson went into labor two months early? She was so tiny then, she fit right into the palm of my hands." He demonstrated, holding his hands out before him, his eyes and voice vacant. "I didn't think anything could be so tiny." He trailed off, the sobs once again racking his body.  
  
Twelve hours later, Poppy Pomfrey came out from behind the operating room doors. Severus stood, his whole body shaking as he searched her face for his daughter's fate.  
  
Poppy smiled. "She's alive. The little thing just wasn't planning on giving up. She's got herself one broken arm and wrist, a fractured collar bone, five broken or cracked ribs, and some of her intestines had to be removed because one of the crib bars punctured her abdomen. But she's resting, and the best mediwitches are in there right now. Alseeonae's going to be fine, Mr. Snape, she's going to make it."  
  
Before he could react to stop it, his legs gave out from under him, and he sank to the floor, weeping tears of relief and pain as only a man who had lost his wife and nearly his daughter in one night could understand.  
  
Later, when Severus was permitted to see his daughter, Poppy kept Albus from following.  
  
"What's wrong my dear?" His voice was pained as he watched his protegee move beyond the swinging door.  
  
For a moment the witch hesitated before barreling forward. "The little one's had Cruciatus cast on her, her muscles were so tight already that when her—the crib crashed onto her it was like oak crashing against steel." He gasped at the very notion that anyone would cast an unforgivable on a helpless baby. "That's not the worst of it, Albus." She drew a breath. "On her right hip, just below the waist…it's the dark mark, Albus, that horrible monster marked her before he tried to kill her!"  
  
"Dear gods, Alseeonae bears the Dark Mark?" Poppy nodded. "Then Voldemort really did know what she was—is! You were right, my dear Poppy, he truly is a monster."  
  
* * *  
  
"I fear, for the safety of every single one of us, the Minister is correct."  
  
"You can't really mean that, Albus! She and Harry are just children!"  
  
"I am sorry, Minerva, I sympathize with you on this point more than you know. I think of both Harry and Alseeonae as my own grandchildren. But the fact remains that for their safety they cannot stay in the magical world."  
  
It was a council meeting of the most secret society in the Ministry of Magic. Around the table, spies and dignitaries sat, strategizing again now that they knew for certain Voldemort was still alive. It had been nearly six months since that fateful day that James, Lily, Mellisson, and twelve muggles had been killed all in the name of Voldemort. Harry had long since been moved into the muggle world, but it was now time to decide how best to protect Alseeonae Morganna Snape, and the answer was not what anyone wanted to hear.  
  
"I must insist—"  
  
"No. You will not." Severus Snape was a thin man now, and his mysterious good looks had been reduced to those of a broken and haggard man. His hair hung limp and lifeless down half his back, and his sunken eyes made him look half dead in his nearly gray skin. His clothing hung from him, the material tattered and torn; so unlike the meticulous and nearly vain dresser they'd all known before Voldemort's seeming defeat.  
  
"Morganna cannot stay here. The Death Eaters know what she is. They know, which is why they tried to kill her in the first place; why they killed…Mellisson to get to her. But they don't know she's alive, Minerva, only those in this room know Harry Potter's Fatemuse is alive, and it's going to stay that way.  
  
"I can't just disappear to take her either. After my trial and Albus's rescue, I'll go to Hogwarts and teach as I was before. But I cannot bring my daughter with me, I cannot allow anyone to know that Morganna is alive!" He paused, his fists clenching, his jagged nails drawing blood from his palm. "They'll stop at nothing to kill her if they can because everyone knows Harry Potter lives, and the Death Eaters suspect so too does Voldemort. Morganna is the key to bringing down Voldemort in the future, she is the one that will awaken the winged lion and we cannot ever forget that!" He slammed his fist to the table in frustration, in hatred of himself for bring a life into this world that he could not protect.  
  
"Severus, I'm so sorry—"  
  
"It destroys me to know that Morganna must never know who I am! She must never know her father is Severus Snape, because if she does, if the Death Eater's figure it out, they'll kill her before I can stop them. I cannot stop them! I can't protect Morganna anymore than I could protect Mellisson!" His fists hit the table once again, the pain sending jolts up his arms and down his spine.  
  
Drawing a claming breath, he collected himself. "Albus has arranged for Morganna to be fostered to Arabella Figg in America. She'll grow up just like any other witch. She'll have family and friends, she'll be happy…" He trailed off, his voice catching in the thickness of his throat.  
  
"For cause of my cover, it was always believed that I had an illegitimate brother in America on my father's side. So that's who she'll be, Morganna Michaels. She'll become my 'brother's' daughter, who was killed in a horrible automobile accident. Arabella will be her mother's sister and guardian, and I will be her uncle. Her uncle. I'll still know her…I'll still know my baby girl…"  
  
If he had any reservations about sobbing in front of others, he had lost them months ago, watching Morganna cry relentlessly as her baby bones healed without the aid of magic. His heart was broken, shattered as he realized that even though he didn't want to believe his own words, he had no choice. For their safety, for Morganna and Harry, for all the world to be safe, beautiful Alseeonae Morganna Snape, with eyes like her mother's, would never be allowed to know that he was the one who had woken up every two hours to feed her as an infant. She'd never know the truth, and everything in that statement threatened to undo him.  
  
Distantly, he heard Dumbledore offer to make the arrangements to which he nodded. He heard the words of comfort as well; that she'd still know him, that she'd still be a part of his life, if not always there, until he stood and fled from the room.  
  
Mellisson had died and his daughter was to be sent away.  
  
"I kept my promise, my love, I will protect our daughter, no matter what the cost."  
  
He broke down in the hallway.  
  
  
  
* * *  
  
"Severus," said Dumbledore, turning to Snape, "you know what I must ask you to do. If you are ready…if you are prepared…"  
  
"I am," said Snape.  
  
He looked slightly paler than usual, and his cold, black eyes glittered strangely.  
  
"Then good luck," said Dumbledore, and he watched, with a trace of apprehension on his face, as Snape swept wordlessly after Sirius.  
  
(Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire)  
  
In the hallway he cast a quick Location charm before Apparating to the signature he knew without conscious thought.  
  
When Severus reappeared, it was in the middle of an extremely well lit stage, a stadium of thousands of teenage boys and girls screaming before him. The sound of some sugary-pop song playing loudly over the speakers as the band hit cords behind him was being televised on an enormous set of viewing screens to his left and right. The images from the stage showed clearly the shock on his face at Apparating into such a public place. Silently he cursed himself for being so foolish as to forget to check the location he was Apparating too. A flash from the board caught his attention as he heard the band slowly begin to die off from shock at his appearance, it was the name of the singer currently crooning beautifully before him, the title read, Mellisson.  
  
In front of him, the girl singing was just starting to notice the band had stalled. Her waist long black hair hung in a thick sheet down her back, as long legs showing far too much skin, extended from a black mini skirt. He saw the glint of silver jewelry against the delicate looking wrist that had never fully recovered from the brake during her first year of life. His eyes caught a hold of one particular bracelet, noting with a heavy heart that it had been the first gift he'd given Mellisson on her sixteenth birthday.  
  
He watched in slow motion as a group of men started from the side of the stage, their intent clearly written on their outstretched and ready to pounce arms. He ignored them after a brief look, his attention refocusing on the fifteen-year-old girl slowly revolving towards him.  
  
He saw the line of her shoulders and hip shift and his immediate thought was that she was too thin. What was it with Americans and needing their women to look like boys. He decided Arabella hadn't been feeding her properly, letting her get away with skipping meals or worse, he'd remedy that shortly. He ignored the obvious medical reason of her childhood injury, focusing instead on someone he could yell at.  
  
Next he noticed the peaks of her breasts, over emphasized by the white cups of the laced up corset top, covered only partially by a sheer black shirt with rhinestone written 'Goddess' down the sleeve. Oh those was getting burned the moment they found there way into the laundry!  
  
Her stomach was taunt, and he knew she prided herself on the two hundred sit-up she did every day to keep it that way. He grimaced at the shine of some stone or other glittering from her bellybutton, but knew he'd grudgingly given her permission for the trinket only weeks ago for her fifteenth birthday.  
  
And then her face came into view. She was gorgeous. Her chin was round but well defined, as were her cheekbones. Her lips were full--and even though no one knew it because of the Featura Obscurra spell he'd cast daily on himself since her move to America--she had his full and sensuous lips.  
  
Dark bangs curled just slightly over her well proportioned forehead and just barely touched the tops of her dark well shaped eyebrows. Her nose was straight, but not overly large, it was a nose of dignity and wealth, and he was glad to know she'd inherited it from Mellisson.  
  
Her blue/white eyes were as he remembered them, empty voids to be lost in if stared at for too long. But now they were over emphasized by the dark Kohl lines she'd drawn around her eyes.  
  
She was wearing far too much make-up for a fifteen-year-old, he thought. Her lips, which were just now parting into a wide smile of recognition—showing off her brilliantly straight teeth—were far too red, too dark for a fifteen year old. Her cheeks, rosy from the horribly hot lights and the exertion of her boisterous dance movements, were redder then they should have been; she was wearing rouge too!  
  
They were definitely going to talk about this!  
  
His eyes locked with hers, and he noticed before he could react, that she'd spent the time he'd evaluated her appearance to start her flight. She was already half way to the arms he found were already stretched out to receive her.  
  
"UNCLE SEVERUS!!!" 


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter 1  
  
As the scream came abruptly from the kitchen, Hermione Granger, soon to be fifth year student at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, sure wished her life was a little less fantastic. She and her father were up in a flash from their positions around the dinner table.  
  
Another gasp came from the kitchen as her father slammed into the swinging white door.  
  
"Emily!"  
  
Her father managed to stop directly in front of her so that Hermione bounced off his back and rather large bottom, rebounding into the door and fell backwards right onto her butt.  
  
"Ouch!"  
  
"Oh dear." Came the now frazzled voice of Hermione's mother.  
  
"We're dreadfully sorry, miscalculation on our part, I was sure we'd Apparate at the side of the house." Was that…Professor Dumbledore?  
  
In a flash Hermione was up again, this time pushing the door as hard as she could, grimacing as it slammed into her father who in turned stumbled into their other guest. He was the first person Hermione noticed.  
  
"Snape!"  
  
All eyes in the room turned to look at her. Bright faced from the exertion, bushy hair in a disarray of frizzy half curls, Hermione was the picture of stunned shock.  
  
Dumbledore rescued her. "Ah Miss Granger, so Severus and I did indeed get the right house, how pleasant. Then these must be your parents. How do you do?" One wizened hand extended to take her mothers and then leaned over at the waist to kiss it. For her part, Mrs. Granger looked half way between fainting and screaming again. Next, the headmaster took her father's hand, pumping it enthusiastically. "Fascinating place this is, a kitchen, filled with such marvelous wonders as only Muggles can dream up. I'm quite envious myself actually, the creativity of non-magic users to create magical like things is truly incredible."  
  
He would have gone on, but her father chose that moment to make Hermione wish that Voldemort himself would come now and strike her dead.  
  
"Who in the Bloody Hell are you lot?!"  
  
Hermione choked on her breath. "DAD!" Turning quickly she addressed the two professors. "I'm so sorry, Headmaster, Professor. I-I think you've just startled my parents half to death."  
  
She turned to her parents, who stared at her, dumbstruck at being yelled at when they were obviously the ones who'd been violated in this exchange.  
  
"Mum, Dad, this is Headmaster Dumbledore from Hogwarts," she overemphasized the name of her school so they'd begin to understand. "And this," she said, gesturing towards Snape. "Is my potions professor, Professor Snape."  
  
And then, the nightmare of all her best dreams came true.  
  
Her father, in righteous indignation, contorted his face into a horrible scowl to rival even Snape's and took the three steps between himself and the gray skinned wizard to jab forcefully into the chest hidden under Hogwarts robes.  
  
"So you're the bastard that made our Hermione cry! You should be ashamed of yourself! Hermione's a bright, intelligent, beautiful—"  
  
"OH MY GOD! DAD, STOP!!!"  
  
"I will not stop!" Mr. Granger's burning eyes moved quickly towards Dumbledore's. "Do you know this man terrorizes the children on a daily basis! What kind of teachers to you employ at the school of yours, Sir?!"  
  
It was obvious from Dumbledore and Snape's expressions they hadn't expected this kind of welcome. Dumbledore actually looked like a fish out of water for a moment before collecting himself to reply, Hermione didn't give him the opportunity.  
  
Grabbing onto her father's arm, she off-balanced the large man and forcefully pulled him from the room, all the while listening to him continue to rail about the injustices upon his daughter. She barely heard her mother give a tittering nervous laugh before offering the men tea.  
  
She swung around her father to face him. "How could you do that to me?!"  
  
His eyes were back to the gentleness that was his normal demeanor. "Hermione, you've said nothing but horrible things about that, Professor Snape character, and it's important that the establishment know just how horrible a teacher he really is."  
  
Covering her face with her hands, Hermione tried to think if it were possible to transfer to Beauxbatons for next quarter. "Dad, please, please, please don't say another bad thing, and just file a complaint letter like everyone else! I have to go back in there—worse, I have to take classes for my next three years with him! Oh dad, how could you do this to me?!"  
  
She couldn't see it behind her hands, but she felt it—her father was starting to feel guilty. His large hand came around her shoulders, rubbing her back softly. "'mione, I'm sorry Hunny. You know how I hate it when people don't treat you fairly. You're the brightest student there, I'm sure, and all you can write home about is how horrible he is to you." He squatted down in front of her, moving her hands and examining her nearly tear filled eyes. "Oh, Hermione, I'm sorry, sweetheart. Look, I'll go back in there and make nice with the stupid git of a wizard, will that make you smile for Daddy?"  
  
She couldn't help but smile, her dad had turned on that voice he reserved for babies and talking to his car—which were basically the same thing to him. Nodding her head once she closed her eyes, squared her shoulders and walked back into the kitchen, her father trailing behind her, glaring deathly at Snape.  
  
"Um," she didn't get much farther.  
  
"Mr. Granger," Dumbledore began in his most kind and diplomatic voice, a soft smile on his face. "I assure you, we at Hogwarts, including Professor Snape, readily understand the brilliance of Miss Granger's mind, her drive to learn, and her willingness to help others; in fact, that's exactly why we're here.  
  
"If you'll forgive our…unusual entrance—I'm usually much better at judging distance, but I do believe old age is setting in a bit—I would very much like to discuss Hermione's future at Hogwarts with you." He smiled brightly at Hermione, giving her a little wink when the pressure of the unknown threatened to have her begging on the linoleum floor to let her come back next semester. "She is the exemplar of a true Hogwarts student, and indeed, a true witch at heart!"  
  
Outside the wizarding world, 'true witch at heart' had an entirely different meaning than it did inside it, and Hermione could tell from her mother's little gasp, that this wasn't going to go over well without a wizard/muggle interpreter.  
  
Racing to grab the attention back before her mother could comment on the Headmaster's misinterpreted words, Hermione jumped quickly and ran towards the counter, grabbing a hold of the bread pudding pan.  
  
"Professors…um, we were just about to have dessert, won't you stay? It's mum's, um, famous bread pudding!" She needed to stop hanging out with Harry and Ron, her lying was almost getting believable.  
  
But Dumbledore didn't seem to notice and turned twinkling and hungry eyes towards the pudding. "Well of course we would, wouldn't we Severus? Never pass up sweets I say, keeps a man young. That would be lovely, Miss Granger, thank you." And in that last comment, Hermione knew Dumbledore understood what she was doing, and had accepted the offer of a truce. When she glanced at Professor Snape, his look was not quite so friendly.  
  
Ignoring everyone in the room, Hermione latched onto Dumbledore's sleeve and pulled him from the kitchen to the dinning room. "Well then, Headmaster, you're in for a great treat, my mum's pudding has loads of sugar and raisins in it."  
  
And so the Granger family and their two guests found themselves sitting around the dinning room table, sharing halted conversation while Hermione tried desperately to volley the explosive foapa's being unwittingly cast to each side.  
  
At one point it got extremely horrific. Her father was still trying to kill Snape with his eyes, while the Potions Master sat dully through the entire course, offering only a grunt when called for but otherwise holding his tongue. That hadn't been acceptable to Hermione's mother though, a master herself in the art of conversation—except with wizards.  
  
"So, um, Professor Snape." Dark and cold eyes focused on her mother's brown ones and Hermione watched her mother visibly pull back from the heavy look. "Um, Hermione tells us that Potions is very much like chemistry. Richard actually majored in Chemistry, isn't that right Richard?"  
  
"Quite. Hard subject that chemistry stuff. I don't suppose though that wizards know all that much about the subject considering it's less about atoms and chemical bonds and more about idle wand waving." If her father had been trying to insult the man, it worked better than one of Professor Flitwick's Majorium Insulta charms.  
  
Snape bustled instantly, the reference to potions being anything like 'idle wand waving' had the tall man sitting to his supreme height. Hermione felt the storm beginning in the back of her head as the headache began, she raced to cut it off.  
  
"No, dad. Potions is like Chemistry, but not quite like it. Potions is like…um…like cooking! Yes, cooking! No wand movements in cooking, is there, Headmaster?" The desperate plea in her voice must have spurned Dumbledore forward because the headmaster shook his head vigorously and looked pointedly at Snape who instantly calmed down. "Right, see, wizards and witches cook just like everyone else."  
  
Her mother chose that point to comment. "I thought you told us that wizards were incapable of doing anything for themselves; using slave labor in the form of tiny little elves." At Hermione's trapped expression, Mrs. Granger looked to Dumbledore. "Hermione says the poor little creatures are just worked to death all over the wizarding world. I can't understand how people with magic could possibly need slaves, but Hermione says that some wizards are quite helpless." All this was said as if Emily Granger had suddenly become an expert on the subject of the S.P.E.W code of mandates-- it became instantly obvious where Hermione got her legendary know-it-all tone of voice.  
  
"Well, I wouldn't call them slaves--"  
  
Mr. Granger again cut Dumbledore off. "Hermione said there was no compensation for services rendered and that the little creatures had to run around in dirty pillow cases! Emily and I couldn't believe that our Hermione was the first student ever to see that kind of injustice and take a stand against it."  
  
Mrs. Granger jumped in as Hermione sat helpless with a fork full of bread pudding still half way to her mouth. "We've always tried to teach Hermione to stand up for those less fortunate, that's Richard's work--so politically active, you know. But really such appalling employment standards, someone really should do something about those poor creatures. Hermione's even befriended some of them that work in the kitchens at school, haven't you, dear?"  
  
Drawing a deep breath, Hermione calmly set her fork back into the bowl and looked around the table. Her mother and father were looking at her expectantly, ready for her to make a well timed speech about the injustices of elf treatment in the twenty-first century. While on the other side of the table, Dumbledore looked quite amused to see how she was planning on getting out of this one. Snape just scowled at her until she looked back at her pudding.  
  
Taking another breath, Hermione tried to smooth things over. "Yes, they're treated as slaves and in some cases worse; but Headmaster Dumbledore has always been kind to the house elves, even offering them pay and vacation. The problem in the poor things have been oppressed for so long they don't even understand that they deserve such things—so even though it's offered they won't take it. So yes, house elves are mistreated, but not so at Hogwarts. Though I can't say the same for the way some families in the wizarding world treat them." She looked up, her eyes finding the knowing and grateful eyes of the headmaster and the still cold ones of her professor.  
  
Dumbledore spoke up then. "Quite right, Miss Granger. The house elves that care for Hogwarts do tend to overexert themselves in my opinion. It is my sincere hope that by the end of my ten-year at the school they will be willing to take a full day off every week, but that's an old man's dreams I think." He winked at Hermione, and she smiled back, satisfied that he'd heard her opinion on the subject and that he wouldn't forget it for some time.  
  
Soon after the 'house elf' incident, Dumbledore addressed her parents. "Mr. and Mrs. Granger, I had hoped I could speak with you for a little while in private about a few things concerning Hermione. That is if you have the time, I know Severus and I didn't exactly come announced. The telephone is a muggle invention I have yet to fully comprehend." He smiled disarmingly. "I find that like young Mr. Weasley, I never know just how loud to talk into it." Hermione smiled, remember the story Harry told about the summer Ron called the Dursleys' to talk to him.  
  
Suddenly it dawned on Hermione that the headmaster wanted to talk to her parents alone, that meant without her there--oh no, something was definitely wrong.  
  
A panicked expression entered her eyes, and she turned to the old wizard. "Headmaster, if I've done something wrong--"  
  
"No, no, child, you've done quite a few things right actually. Now, why don't you and Severus go for a walk while I speak with your parents for a bit. No more than a half an hour I should think. Severus, if you'd be so kind as to escort Miss Granger around the block." It was said as a gentle suggestion, but Hermione knew it was a sugar-laced command.  
  
As Snape rose, the notion of walking around her block with Snape was just about her undoing. Jumping out of her seat, she tried to fix things. Turning towards Dumbledore, she spoke hastily. "No, no, that's find Headmaster, I'll just go alone, no sense making Professor Snape come with me."  
  
But Dumbledore shook her off. "Nonsense, Miss Granger. I think this is an excellent opportunity for you and Professor Snape to discuss some of the upcoming potions assignments for the coming year--I do know how much you like to be ahead of your classmates."  
  
"Oh Hermione," this boisterous response from her mother. "That's a great idea! That way you and Mr. Snape can talk about some of the things your father was mentioning earlier."  
  
Hermione wanted to die.  
  
She looked to her father for some support, some way to keep from being totally and utter humiliated on this night of all nights, but her father only grinned and agreed with her mother as he rose to escort Dumbledore to the living room.  
  
Dejected and resigned to her fate, she didn't dare look at the potions master. "Ok. I'll just get my coat."  
  
I had never taken anyone in the known universe as long as it took Hermione to find a coat she deemed suitable to go outside in eighty-five degree weather.  
  
But when she met Snape at the bottom of the stairs, a sudden flair of indignant anger flooded through her. Encouraged by the familiar surroundings of her own entrance way, and the completely out of place look Snape was giving off surrounded by china kittens, Hermione lifted her noise and put her foot down.  
  
"I am not taking you out onto my parent's street in your bathrobe, Professor. If you want to walk with me you'll have to change into Muggle clothes." There! Let him find clothing for a walk, he was getting left behind, and Hermione was going to breath--  
  
With a quick wave of his wand and a cruel sneer, Snape changed into a pair of jeans, a back tee-shirt, and a black leather jacket, complete with silver cuff buttons and black sunglasses.  
  
"Will this be acceptable, Miss Granger, or would you suggest I raid your father's closet?"  
  
Oh my god, she thought as she stared openly at him, he looked damn good!  
  
The jeans were tight, showing of his long legs, lean but not thin. The tee shirt was maybe just a little too tight, but that was the idea after all. She could see the lines of his stomach muscles and while there wasn't anything close to a six-pack there, he definitely took care of himself. His shoulder length hair was tied back into a ponytail, not a hint of greasy shine to it, and a pair of dark, mirrored glasses were perched upon his just slightly oversized nose.  
  
But that was the odd part. Snape's nose didn't look quiet as big, quite as hooked as it usually did--as it had only seconds before! His skin wasn't quite as gray either, and while not tan by any sense of the word, more like alabaster that a sick clay. His mouth looked fuller too, but that might just have been the extra color added to his face. Then again, maybe it was the leather jacket's fault.  
  
She didn't realize how long she'd been staring until he scowled, ruining the effect of her reverie, bringing his features dark and dangerous qualities that still scared the living daylights out of her. "Some time this year, Miss Granger."  
  
"Oh, right. Sorry." Refusing to lose anymore ground than his sudden change in appearance had cost her, Hermione walked to the door and threw it open, carelessly realizing at the last minute that Snape was poised to get the white door smashed into his newly improved face. She flinched when he caught it just inches from his nose, and promptly ignored the fact that he was holding it open for her as she walked through it and down the porch steps.  
  
She needed a hobby! Ever since her last letter to Viktor, Hermione had been desperately waiting for a reply. She's asked him if he'd be able to visit her at Hogwarts this year, maybe even in time for the Yule Ball. She was waiting for his response now, but ever since the letter, she'd been actually thinking about the dance, and that meant thinking about boys, and Hermione flatly refused to think anymore about Snape being a boy--man-- whatever!  
  
Instinctively, Hermione turned left at the gate. Her parents lived in an upscale neighborhood that catered to doctors, and politicians. The houses that lined this particular street were immaculate, contesting to the hordes of migrant Irish workers that kept everything on both the outside and inside perfect to the most diligent observer. Hermione freely admitted that her house was one of the shabbier on the street, but as her parents were only dentists and not brain surgeons, it was small wonder. She'd lived in the same whitewashed two story since her birth, and it was as much home as Hogwarts had become.  
  
The people mainly kept to themselves, this wasn't exactly the neighborhood for that American tradition of backyard barbecues. But people minded their own business, and on the few occasions when Hermione's pre- magical training abilities had found the family car levitating a few inches off the ground and to the left, no one made mention.  
  
That is, no one except Ashley Westington.  
  
Hermione cursed her luck as the bottle blond came tearing out of her house--completely nonchalant--and "accidentally" spotted her.  
  
"Oh, Hermione, I'm so glad I ran into you!" The fake sincerity nearly dripped from Ashley's tongue, and it took only a second of watching those heavily make-up-ed eyes scanning Snape's leather and jean clad form, for her to determine exactly why she was being tortured with the twits presence.  
  
On instinct, Hermione took a half step back, lining herself up with the confused looking Snape--if the man could look confused that is.  
  
"Ashley."  
  
A twittering hormone induced giggle. "Oh, Hermione, Hermione, Hermione, is that anyway to greet your next door neighbor?" She felt her stomach roll as Ashley batted her eyes at Snape. Hermione hazard a look in his direction but couldn't tell his expression behind the dark glasses, she reasoned he wasn't likely enjoying himself. But that casual glance revealed something else she hadn't noticed earlier, Snape looked younger—or more precisely, he looked about what Hermione reasoned must be his real age. Somewhere in his mid-thirties, and still looking extremely shag worthy.  
  
ACK! Stop that!  
  
"Hello, Ashley. Better?" Her tone was completely sarcastic, and it would have been obvious to a blind, deaf and dumb person that the two girls hated each other.  
  
Ashley was a politician's daughter and she showed it clearly. Another bat of her eyelashes towards Snape, and she was turning back to Hermione, a knowing and evil look buried not so well behind the false pleasantries.  
  
"Hermione, I just wanted to apologize. I hope my little get-together didn't cause you to lose any sleep last night. Mummy and Daddy are in the states skiing in Aspen, and I just absolutely had to throw a little party." It took everything Hermione had not to strangle the girl. The party had raged on well past three this morning; and the stereo must have been right on the west wall, because every beat of the subwoofers hammered into Hermione's wall beyond the time she tried to get to sleep.  
  
"Oh no Ashley, it was fine. I don't usually like to sleep on Wednesday nights anyway, interferes with my ability to play snob on the weekends."  
  
Cold fire burned in those blue eyes, and Hermione quickly understood, that she and Professor Snape were about to be pulled into a doosey.  
  
The blond laughed it off, a high pitched--supposedly attractive-- laugh. "Hermione, you're so darling! You and your witty sense of humor. But really, I do want to apologize, Antonio and I might have gotten…a little loud after the party died down." She gave a quick laugh, giving her hand a half swipe in front of her. "You know those Italian boys, they know how to do amazing things with their…hands."  
  
She was going to be sick. And what in the world was she doing, having this kind of conversation with Snape standing right next to her!? Was she nuts?!  
  
She had to get control of the situation immediately, before things got worse, and Hermione could only think of one way to out do a slut: be a bigger one!  
  
Smiling coyly, Hermione batted her eyes to Ashley, before wrapping her hands around Snape's right arm, and leaning her head against his biceps. The smell of leather and something woodsy invaded her senses and had her off balance in such a way that she looked like she was remembering an extremely good memory. Subconsciously, she realized that the leather jacket was hiding a very muscular arm.  
  
Her voice came out perfectly, half bored with Ashley, half knowing her own superiority. "Actually, it was so hard to hear anything after the party last night. After the music got so loud, Severus decided he'd keep me…entertain until things died down. Imagine my surprise, when our own sounds started drowning out the dying cat ones coming from my window." She smiled triumphantly at the red-faced expression of the idiotic girl in front of her; but she didn't dare look at the expression on Professor Snape's face. If his stiffening muscles were any indication, she was never going to hear the end of this. Oh well, she thought, might as well make this one count.  
  
"I'm so sorry, Ashley, did I forget to introduce you, silly me. Ashley Westington, this is Severus Snape, my Chemistry teacher at School. He's come all the way here just to see me, isn't that just so sweet!" She hugged his arm, looking up at him with what she hoped were adoring eyes. She was surprised when he looked back down at her minus the sneer. Oh, boy, was she in for it!  
  
But that inbred bitch had to try for one more dig.  
  
"Mr. Snape, don't you think this kind of relationship is highly inappropriate with our little Hermione?" Her voice was filled with all the self-righteous indignation that goes with knowing the ugly girl next door got the cute one.  
  
She expected Snape to reveal the ruse, and as she prepared herself for years of teasing torture at Ashley Westington's hands, she barely noticed when a long leather clad arm wrapped about her shoulders and gave a little squeeze.  
  
His voice was four parts mystery, and six parts sexual testosterone. She felt his long fingers wind idly into the hair at the base of her neck. "Perhaps Miss Westington, but what man--or woman for that matter--could resist our little Hermione, when she decided to act all grown up?" And to prove his point, he leaned down and nuzzled her hair with his cheek.  
  
"I-I, that is--"  
  
"Hermione, Luv." She couldn't believe she was still standing, and she literally swooned when he used that particular endearment. "Shouldn't we be getting back to your parent's house? Your father wanted to discuss a few things with me about our summer plans." He turned back towards Ashley. "Hermione's traveling Europe with me this summer, I suspect we may even make it to The States."  
  
Then, with an award winning smile and good-bye cast over his shoulder, Severus Snape, unfeeling bastard head of House for Slytherin, gently turned Hermione around, his arm still wrapped firmly about her shoulders—his fingers still tangled in her hair—and walked them back towards her house.  
  
Goosebumps covered Hermione's skin. She was so close to him, his scent permeated every sense she had so that it was as if nothing existed but this newly discovered man by her side.  
  
For that's what Severus Snape was, a man.  
  
"When the term starts, Miss Granger, you've got detention for a week."  
  
Well, you can be a man and a bastard at the same time.  
  
They were just about to enter the gate when a terribly frightened voice came from across the street.  
  
"HERMIONE! HERMIONE, HELP ME PLEASE!!!" Spinning quickly, detention and darkly sensuous man next to her completely forgotten, Hermione rounded on Jacob, the six-year-old grandson of Gram Salisbury across the street.  
  
She wasted little time running half way to meet him. "Jacob, what's wrong?!" Fear filled her voice as his own bled into her.  
  
"It's Gram! She fell down the back stairs and she won't wake up!" The tears were already falling, and Hermione quickly gathered the boy into her arms, hugging him closely. With a great push, she grabbed onto the boy he wrist and barreled across the street and around the backside of the brick masterpiece.  
  
Gram Salisbury was some doctor or other's widow. She'd lived on the street as long as Hermione could remember, often letting the children play in her enormous backyard, and enlisting their aid come berry picking time. Hermione remembered fondly the rule of thumb: Eat as many as you want just don't get sick, and save some for the jam. Her own grandparents had died when she was fairly young, and she'd adopted Gram Salisbury as her own since the age of eight.  
  
Jacob was an extra burden Hermione wished she could leave behind as she tried to navigate the uneven path of hand laid stones, but she wasn't about to leave the boy crying in the street.  
  
At the corner of the house, she let go of Jacob's hand and noticed for the first time that Snape had followed her behind the great house. Leaning down, she brushed the tears from Jacob's cheeks and tried to speak calmly to him.  
  
"Jacob, where exactly did Gram fall? Where did you see her last?"  
  
Snape's voice came on the air, as he was already three feet from Hermione's crouched form. "There, by the garden."  
  
Cursing, Hermione rose, and ran past Snape to get to Gram Salisbury. The stone steps lead into the garden part of the yard, and too often they became moss-ed over this time of year. Hermione and others had cautioned the older woman to be careful, but Gram had always brushed their worries aside.  
  
Now as Hermione neared the steps, she saw that Gram had taken quite a serious fall. Laying on her side, her head, cushioned by dirt instead of cement, Gram's arm looked broken, and Hermione couldn't imagine that falling on her side would cause her delicate hip to fair much better.  
  
Dropping to her knees, Hermione stroked back the short curly hair of Gram and called her name softly to no avail. As Snape approached with Jacob close behind, Hermione called out to the six-year-old.  
  
"Jacob, go back into the house and call the police."  
  
But suddenly, Snape was clutching the boy's shoulder, preventing him from running back in for the phone. "Miss Granger, come here and take this boy inside."  
  
Stunned and suddenly furious, she stood, shaking her head, and balling her fists.  
  
"Gram's fallen, we need to get her to a hospital!"  
  
"I am aware of her condition, Miss Granger, now take the boy inside."  
  
She missed all the obvious signs, she was too worried about the woman who'd made her cookies, and let her stay over when her mother had forgotten to give her the flat key during the second grade.  
  
"You selfish, jerk! She needs help, and all you can do is stand there and tell me to take Jacob inside. You bloody useless git of a--"  
  
"Miss Granger!" His voice commanded her attention, and Hermione suddenly felt as if she were back at Hogwarts, her cauldron a puddle of goo at her feet. "Take the boy inside!"  
  
Stubborn as always, Hermione shook her head. Even if Snape was playing teacher instead of seductive mystery man, this was her Gram he was talking about.  
  
Frustrated, Snape moved Jacob within gentle shoving distance of Hermione, and then with a tap sent the boy into her arms. Hermione, for her part, cooed softly to him, her eyes never leaving her own mirrored reflection in Snape's dark glasses.  
  
Kneeling down in the overturned earth, Snape glanced once at the child in Hermione's arms before drawing his wand from out of thin air.  
  
Suddenly, Hermione felt like the biggest idiot in Britain. There she was railing at him for doing nothing, and there he was getting ready to do just the opposite. She pulled Jacob against her chest, felt his sobs soak through her shirt and wet her breasts. With nothing else to do, she ran her fingers through his hair and across his back to comfort him as she watched Snape work.  
  
In hushed words, Snape levitated the old woman and gently rotated her in mid-air, bringing her so that she lay on her back a good foot off the dirt. He checked her quickly for bleeding, but upon finding only a few small scratches on her arms, again reached his hand out into thin air and withdrew from some hidden pocket of space, a small black vial with a cork stopper.  
  
Without looking at her, Snape drew the cork, and then slowly poured the thick liquid into Gram's mouth, gently massaging her throat to stimulate her to swallow. The process took a few minutes, but eventually, Gram had swallowed the entire bottle with nothing but Snape's delicate fingers to help.  
  
He put the now empty bottle into an inside pocket of his jacket before grasping the broken and crooked arm and giving a firm, quick pull. Hermione had to turn away from the sickening sound of setting bones. When she looked again, Snape was gently lowering Gram's body back to the earth.  
  
He looked up then, his eyes meeting her worried and scared ones before turning back to the old woman and casting under his breath, "Inveterate."  
  
A few moments later, Gram Salisbury started to wake up.  
  
Overjoyed, Hermione let go of Jacob, and shifted to gently cradle Gram's face between her hands. "Gram? Gram can you hear me? It's Hermione, Gram. I need you to open your eyes, Gram, I need you to open your eyes so we can make sure you're ok." She already knew that when Gram woke up she'd be in the best shape of her life. The potion Snape had given her looked suspiciously like a Mending potion, designed to heal what ails you, and Gram Salisbury had quite a few ailments.  
  
"…'mione? Child…that you?" Age crinkled eyes struggled to open before finally doing so and falling upon Hermione's face.  
  
"Oh, Gram, you're OK!"  
  
"Gram!" The little bundle that was Jacob launched himself at Hermione, and together they looked down at the delicate face of the woman long known for her gentleness and kindness.  
  
But not her candies.  
  
Quite a while later, Hermione, Snape, Jacob and Gram were all seated around her parlor room. It was a quaint sitting room, but Hermione knew from long experience what happened in this room; so that now, after making sure that Gram felt better than she'd felt in ten years, Hermione was desperately trying to make their excuses.  
  
"I'm so glad you're doing better Gram, but Professor Snape and I have to get going. He and another Professor have to be getting back to school."  
  
"Oh, is that so." Said Gram, quizzically. "So, Mr. Snape, our Hermione's doing well in school isn't she, not getting into trouble is she?"  
  
Oh crap!  
  
She could feel the moment of triumph had finally come. Snape sat up straighter, his eyes, no longer hidden behind sunglasses, looked coolly into Hermione's, daring her to say something to get out of the ear full he was planning on telling her "Gram".  
  
And then, his eyes turned back to the regal old woman and for the first time in her life, Hermione saw him smile in a look that wasn't self- satisfying.  
  
"Miss Granger is of course a very bright and eager learner. I assure you, she's quite a pleasure to have in class."  
  
"Oh that's nice. I'm so proud of you dear."  
  
Hermione wasn't sure what game he was playing, but she was sure it had to do with a whole lot of detention.  
  
"I'm sorry, Gram, we really do have to go." She stood, hoping to speed up the process. Snape took his cue and stood as well, wishing Gram Salisbury well, and suggesting she go see a doctor if she started to feel dizzy. Hermione couldn't help the warm feeling she got at hearing the usually cold professor speaking so compassionately.  
  
"Oh, Jacob, run into Gram's kitchen and bring her a jar of jam for Mr. Snape." Gram turned back to the softly protesting teacher. "Now, nonsense, Mr. Snape, everyone likes jam, and after the good turn you did for me, it's only polite." She received the blackberry jam jar from Jacob and presented it to Snape. "Usually I wrap them, but you don't seem the bow and ribbon type. You just enjoy the jam, and come back anytime."  
  
And then, the ultimate horror began. This was shaping out to be one of those days.  
  
Gram turned around, picked up a candy dish and presented it to Snape. "One for the road, Mr. Snape?" It was less of a question, and more of a command.  
  
There wasn't a child on the street that didn't know you never take candy from Gram Salisbury. There were rumors that some of the stuff was older than she was.  
  
This particular candy was a collection of peppermint ribbons that seemed as if they'd been glued together by collected moisture from the past five summers.  
  
It stunned her when Snape didn't sneer at Gram, it frightened the shit out of her when he actually lifted his hand to take one. Polite she thought, since no one with eyesight would dare touch the stuff, and it surprised her that he could be so polite. In fact, a great many things about him had surprised her in the last forty-five minutes.  
  
But Hermione owed him, and she might as well start paying him off now.  
  
With lightening reflexes, she grabbed a hold of his hand and took it between both of hers, bringing the mass of fingers down as far as his arm would let her. Then she turned on the charm.  
  
"Oh, Gram, I'm sure Mr. Snape would love too, but you see, he's allergic to candy, something in the artificial sweetener. He gets all gray and cranky." She laughed at her own private joke--why couldn't she needle him at the same time she was saving him from a fate worse than Fluffy?  
  
"Dear me, well, why didn't you say so, trying to be so polite to an old woman. Well, now, you wait just a minute." And with that, Gram disappeared back into the kitchen. A moment later she returned with three different colored jars of jam and presented each one into Snape's remaining hand. It never occurred to Hermione to let go of the one she was still holding. "Now, here's Strawberry, Raspberry, and my specialty, Cherry. As I said, you make sure to come visit next time you're in town, there's plenty more where that came from."  
  
And then they were out the door. The four jars of jam had vanished mysteriously into Snape's coat, but Hermione hardly noticed as they crossed the street back to her house; she had an apology to make.  
  
Stopping outside her gate, she turned to him, her mind too occupied to realize she was still clutching his left hand in hers.  
  
"About what happened." She looked up, meeting the cold glare of his eyes. For a second she considered cutting her losses, but then decided he'd done her a good turn and that at least deserved an apology. "It's just, I love Gram. If anything had happened to her…I don't know what I would have done. She like a real grandmother to me, and seeing her like that, I-I just didn't think--"  
  
"Precisely, Miss Granger, you didn't think." And the cold hard steel of his voice was back, drowning out the memory of the softness that had inhabited it only minutes before. "You are impetuous and brash, and those wasted moments you cost could have meant her life!"  
  
Humbled by his words, Hermione dropped her eyes, and focused on their joined hands. She found it odd that he was berating her right in front of her gate but had refrained from dropping her hand. That was odd.  
  
"I also believe for disrespecting a Professor, and disregarding a direct order, you've earned yourself another weeks' detention. I do hope you didn't have any plan, Miss Granger, at this rate I'll own your whole next year." She looked up then, the cold penetrating gaze burrowing deeply into her soul, wounding her in ways that only Snape--the one teacher that couldn't or wouldn't like her--could do.  
  
But he was right, every single thing he'd said was the truth, and that stung more than she wanted it to.  
  
On her own, she dropped his hand and then turned to the gate and let herself in. Her hands felt cold all of a sudden, but she shoved them into the pockets of her jacket and forgot about them as the door opened and Dumbledore stood smiling down at the two of them.  
  
"Ah, Miss Granger and Severus, I do hope your walk was pleasant."  
  
Snape's voice was dark when he answered. "Eventful, Headmaster."  
  
"Splendid! Now, Miss Granger, if you will please, I believe your parents and I are quite ready for you."  
  
Curious by his wording, Hermione chose to forget the indiscretions of the last forty-five minutes and focus on the thing that had been brewing in her house all this time. Dumbledore had that glimmer in his eye, and Hermione knew enough to be just a little wary of it.  
  
The headmaster kindly helped Hermione out of her jacket and with a few words and a wave of his wand had it placed nicely in the closet. With a hand on her lower back and Snape trailing darkly behind, he propelled her into the living room and had her sit on the only couch not in use.  
  
When Hermione looked around, her parents were smiling at her--beaming with pride actually, and she reasoned that perhaps the detentions really would be worth it.  
  
Dumbledore cleared his throat, and Hermione turned to him, mindful of the fact that Snape was staring at her from his chair by the door. "Miss Granger, I must admit that this is one of my favorite times of the year, when I get to go to the homes of some of Hogwarts brightest students and speak only good things to parents. You have continued to be a great asset to Hogwarts, and the wizarding community is lucky that you have decided to join our ranks.  
  
"To that end, I would like to present you with a small token of Hogwarts' thanks for your continuous efforts to achieve the greatest success possible." And with a little flourish of movement, Dumbledore handed Hermione a small rectangular box of blue velvet. "If you will, Miss Granger," and he gestured to the box.  
  
Fingers vibrating nervously, Hermione hazard a fleeting glance at Dumbledore's twinkling eyes, before opening the box and gasping at the sight.  
  
Before her was a prefect badge, all glittering gold in the lamp light. She'd just been given a prefect badge. She'd just been made a Hogwarts prefect.  
  
"Oh my god!"  
  
"Wear it with as much pride as we at Hogwarts have in you, Miss Granger."  
  
She couldn't have explained later what came over her, but in the blink of an eye she was across the room and throwing her arms around Dumbledore, hugging him for all she was worth.  
  
"Oh, thank you Professor! Thank you so much! I'll do everything in my power to keep making you proud of me. Thank you!" And then, quite out of the blue, she turned and hugged, Snape. "And you too, Professor! Thank you!" She gave him a tight little squeeze, her detentions and his sharp words long forgotten. Then in a flash she was back across the room, hugging and being kissed on the cheek by her parents.  
  
Words of praise and congratulations were passed around, and Hermione soaked up the attention that only intellect could bring. She lived on this stuff, the beaming smiles of adults as they sat around her telling her she was perfection in the making. She knew enough to know she was extremely smart, and knew enough to know there were others much, much smarter. But right now, at this very moment, she was the brightest girl in all the world.  
  
Her high came down just about the time her father cleared his throat. "Hermione, your headmaster has one more thing he'd like to talk to you about."  
  
Expectantly, she turned her eyes back to focus on Dumbledore, while her hands idly ran across the soft velvet of the prefect box.  
  
"Ah yes, thank you Mr. Granger. Hermione, Hogwarts will be receiving a rather, how should I put this, public, student come the fall. Perhaps you've heard of her, I believe she is calling herself, Mellisson in the wizarding and Muggle world. A singer."  
  
She shook her head. "I'm sorry sir, I don't have much time to listen to music." It was the truth. While girls her own age were wrestling with boys and make-up and the latest trends in both robes and designer jeans, Hermione had spent most of her time considering the latest Arithmancy equation. It was sometimes a sad life, but she could hardly think that with a prefect badge in her hands.  
  
"Of course. Well, Mellisson, or rather, Miss Michaels, is something of a pop star--at least that's what I've been told, my tastes tend to lean more towards the Weird Sisters." He smiled again, and Hermione found herself smiling back. "Aside from that, Miss Michaels is rather far behind in her studies due to her career. A sudden move has her here from the states, and she'll need a tutor to help her catch up and stay on top of her studies.  
  
"What I propose is this, Miss Granger. Miss Michaels will need to be tutored at least two hours everyday after her normal lessons--that is, while she's on Hogwarts grounds. Her music career will have her off and running during about half of the in session days. This type of arrangement can only be allowed if Miss Michaels's grades remain above the minimum. I would very much like it if you'd consent to being her tutor, Hermione. This position would extend through the school year with the understanding that for services rendered, all tuition fees for Hogwarts would be forgiven. Should at any time the pressure of tutoring another student begin to interfere with your own work, the administration will of course find an alternative. However, Miss Michaels failed all of her classes except for Potions during her last year, and she'll need to make those up while continuing her new ones. You would be responsible only for last year's material, and since the both of you will be fifth years, I'm sure you are more than capable to handle those subjects.  
  
"One more thing, Miss Granger. The position also includes four extra yearlong credits in an elective that will show on your transcripts as teaching credits. Should you decide one day to pursue a teaching degree, these credits will undoubtedly help you; if not, I'm sure you'd agree they'd look quite good on a college application."  
  
From his knowing smile, Dumbledore knew she was hooked. He'd said all her favorite things. Teaching others, free tuition, extra credits, and college application. As if she'd say no!  
  
"There is one catch, however. Miss Michaels will also need a tutor for next summer, so if you were to take the school year position it would need to include a commitment for at least six weeks of next years holiday. However, the summer will be quite fascinating, as Miss Michaels is scheduled to go on a world tour, hitting twenty-four countries in six weeks. During the summer, you will be monetarily compensated of course, with penalty of time to catch up on your own summer assignments.  
  
"Well, Miss Granger, does this seem like a positions I could convince you into taking?"  
  
Looking back on it, Hermione thought she should have held out for her own classroom, but she'd make due. The prefect badge was pinned carefully to the shirt she was wearing, and Hermione shuttered at the ideas she was turning into Ron's older brother.  
  
With that thought in mind, she carefully undid the clasp, and put the gold piece back into its case, sealing it in her sock drawer. Behind her, her suitcase lay open as she ceremoniously packed only the bear essentials for the week long seminar on magic through the ages, presented by a muggle at Cambridge. Hermione thought it only appropriate to hear a muggle expert speak on things he knew nothing about.  
  
A light rap on her door turned her around in time to see her parents standing arm in arm, beaming at her. Her mother approached her first, giving her a great big hug. "Ohhh, Hermione, we're so proud of you. Your headmaster told us what an honor it is for you to have gotten the prefect badge so young. Your father and I just wanted you to know how proud of you we are."  
  
"Your mum's right, 'mione. And now that your using your knowledge to help another student, and saving your mother and I tuition payments, well, lets just say, I think that deserves a little more spending money this year." She hugged her parents, grateful to them for always being there when she needed them, thankful that they cared about her so much.  
  
The following morning, Hermione boarded the train to Cambridge, never imagining how much her conference partner would change the rest of her life.  
  
* * *  
  
"Ah, you've put her on the train then?"  
  
They were in Dumbledore's office, both nursing bitter cups of lukewarm tea.  
  
"I put Morganna on the train this morning before we left to see Miss Granger. She was far from happy about the seminar."  
  
"As I can well imagine. I doubt many wizarding fifteen-year-olds would find much interesting in the muggle view of magic. Though the seminar should clear up at least some of her lacking credits. I am curious though, how was it you had Miss Granger in such a defeated mood after your walk. You weren't too hard on her I hope."  
  
Snape scoffed. "Miss Granger is quite a handful, Albus. I doubt either my words or her two weeks of detention will effect that fact." He didn't dare allow himself to consider the smoothness of her hair, or the warmth of her hands as they'd held his. He was her teacher for the God's sake! He counted only on her utter embarrassment for having to pretend the dangerous and mean Professor Snape was her teacher lover, from ever bringing the episode to the light of day.  
  
Before him, Dumbledore laughed. "Miss Granger reminds me very much of some other students I've know; you for one. She has your drive for supreme knowledge, and your refusal to accept anything except the absolute truth. Then there's Mellisson. Her kindness to that little neighbor boy proved that fact very well I think."  
  
Snape swore under his breath. "Is there nothing that goes on that you don't know about, Albus?" His eyes were cold, but after years of working beyond the coldness, Dumbledore easily maneuvered around it and into the heart of the storm.  
  
"Probably, though if you're referring to that rather possessive display with Hermione's rude next door neighbor, then no, I know everything." The twinkle was back in his eye, and Severus groaned at what he knew was coming.  
  
"I don't want to hear this, Albus."  
  
"Of course you don't, that's why I have to say it out loud, otherwise you'd never work it around you hearing and into your brain. I've watched you extend a great deal of cruelty towards Hermione and while I know that most of it is a show you put on for the world because she is Harry Potter's friend, the fact remains that you are rather cruel to the child.  
  
"As I recall, you were rather cruel to a certain white haired Ravenclaw girl you were supposed to be tutoring during your fifth year as well; that is until you realized she was just that, a 'she'." Dumbledore laughed outright at the uncomfortable expression on Severus's face. "The fact remains that you are a man of habit, Severus. Once identified, your patters are quiet easy to distinguish, and this particular pattern I've seen before. Would you like me to say it or do you think it will sound better coming from your own lips?"  
  
"It's times like these I wish I'd crossed to Voldemort's side."  
  
"Very well, I'll say it. You're intrigued by Hermione, even attracted to her. There's nothing wrong with this. By wizarding laws, Hermione became a consenting adult the moment she entered her fourth year. How else are we to keep our numbers up. But, there is the little matter of you being her teacher, and while the very idea of you abusing power against a student in such a way will never even cross my mind, it could cross others'. So, Severus, my boy, I suggest that if you plan on pursuing, young Miss Granger, you practice the utmost discretion."  
  
Appalled, Severus spoke. "She's a child, Albus, wizarding laws be damned! Those things have been on the books since wizards took to wands, as old as the Dark Ages! Besides, I'm far too old for her!"  
  
The headmaster's laugh was immediately unsettling. "True about the laws, not so true about the age though. Hermione may only look fifteen, but by her liberal use of the time turner, I'd wager she's closer to seventeen by now, and wizards have never taken much stock in age anyway, only intellectual ability to reason and make sound judgments. I believe Hermione possesses both of these things far more than many give her credit for. Beyond that, you are only thirty-five years old Severus, that's hardly an old man! And need I remind you that my own dear wife--may she rest in peace--was a good thirty years younger than I when we were handfasted?"  
  
"Of course not. Elenorra was as much a mother to me as you were a father."  
  
"Ah, that is a very true statement I think." Warm wrinkled hands found their way around Severus's and he looked up and into a pair of eyes that had loved and protected him since he was dropped off at the steps of Hogwarts nearly twenty-five years ago. "You were the son we never had, and I can never thank you for the joy you brought us. But joy should be given to the child, not just the parent, and you my dear Severus, have had such little joy in your life." One of those warm hands found their way to his cheek. "You deserve happiness, Severus, for all that you've sacrificed, you deserve it in abundance. I believe the great Goddess grants what people deserve in the end, and I have no doubt your time will come soon. With Voldemort re-risen, the Death Eaters assembled, and Harry and Morganna nearing the time of the awakening, it would appear the horrors of the last thirty years may very well be coming to an end. The fact remains however, that you have denied yourself the ability to be happy, waiting for this moment to come, and now that it is upon us, I wonder if you'll finally allow yourself your just dues?  
  
"If she makes you happy, Severus, then pursue her. I am under no impression that Miss Granger found your true appearance today even the slightest bit repulsive, and you were always such a vain boy. But be careful, she's very young still and easily broken. Once begun, it must be followed through to its natural conclusion, lest you ruin her for someone else if things don't work out. I know that at one time you had the ability to love and cherish far beyond even the likes of the Hogwarts Casanova Sirius Black, I wonder if you still have it in you?"  
  
With that, Dumbledore, leaned back into his seat and smiled softly to his adopted son. For his part, Severus was silently trying to block his mentor's words, while failing miserably to dismiss the look on Hermione's face when she'd seen his real features in her entranceway.  
  
Knowing that was enough for one day, enough to at least begin Severus to consider such things, Dumbledore changed the subject to more pressing matters. "With Voldemort's return to power, Morganna will not be completely safe unless the entire staff knows about her lineage. I believe it is imperative that we share this information with the faculty directly before the sorting come the first day of term. With Remus returning as our Defense Against the Dark Arts instructor, Black will also return. Minerva already knows, but by informing the rest, we increase the number of eyes and ready wands should there be trouble."  
  
Still half caught up in his mental war, Snape nodded his approval.  
  
Standing, Dumbledore took the teacup from Severus's hands and guided him by elbow into a standing position. "I believe that is enough for one night, Severus. You have a great deal to think about for the next month, and so do I. I'll leave you to it then." With a light pat of his hand against Severus's cheek, the Potions Master took his leave and returned to the dungeons, a clash of dirty blond and snow white hair waging for dominance in his heart. He did indeed have quite a bit to think about. 


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter 2  
  
Two hours before the welcoming feast, the faculty of Hogwarts was assembled in the headmaster's office. A warm fire was lit but the otherwise dark room was cast in shadows, attesting to the foreboding feeling that this meeting was already taking on.  
  
Voldemort had risen again, that much had become clear to all the staff members at the end of last term. Most assumed this was to be another meeting concerning student safety; only a few actually realized half of the real meaning behind this gathering of wizarding power.  
  
Minerva McGonnagall sat nervously as close to the fire as she could. Severus watched her with half his attention. She was the only one besides himself, Poppy, and Dumbledore that knew the truth.  
  
From the corner of his other eye, he watched Remus Lupin carefully; wondering curiously at the idle movements of his fingers against the great black dog sitting by his wing backed chair. Severus knew Black had been instructed to stay with Lupin for the remainder of the summer but he was still amazed that the mongrel actually had. When Lupin had entered the meeting with Black trailing by his feet, Severus had been more than a little surprised, and if the gleam in the dog's eyes was any indication, Black was enjoying that fact immensely.  
  
Focusing his attention on something other than the two men--dogs--how did you allow yourself to think concerning an animagus and a werewolf?--he looked around the room from his chair closest to the door.  
  
Poppy was doing her best not to show her excitement at seeing Morganna for the first time in nearly fourteen years. The mediwitch had been a constant by Morganna's side during the long and painful process of healing the child's broken and mending bones. There had come a point where Morganna had to be pronounced dead--the only way to extinguish the last remaining records of her life as Alseeonae Snape. But once her name had been added to The Book of the Dead, she'd been moved to a private room at Hogwarts, where Poppy had single-handedly nursed her back to health. Severus had been more than just a little grateful to the mediwitch, and while he'd been as cold as possible with the other staff, with Poppy, he couldn't help but crack a few meaningful smiles.  
  
To Poppy's right, around the loose half circle, was Edina Hooch. She'd be one of the more surprised of them all by the end of this meeting. Madam Hooch's first year teaching had been Severus's first year at Hogwarts, and she had been one the many who'd attended Mellisson and Alseeonae's funeral.  
  
Flitwick and Sprout sat side by side on one of two couches that decorated the room. They too had attended the funeral, and Severus hoped the couple realized his need for hiding the truth.  
  
Others were there as well. Trelawney sat as far from the others as possible, pretending to meditate out the back window as the sound of the Hogwarts' train could be heard in the distance. Bins hovered with the other four house ghosts, who were asked for their attendance because often times, ghosts could go where even adults were wary to venture. Finch with his blasted cat too were sulking in a corner, and though Severus admired the man's diligence to his trade, he couldn't help remembering how much he'd hated him, growing up in these very halls. Around him, Severus glanced at the paintings and was mildly surprised to see just how many painted people could cram themselves into the twenty or so frames about the room. It appeared as if all of Hogwarts was in attendance, that is everyone except Hagrid and Dumbledore.  
  
Severus had at first refused to allow Hagrid in on this particular secret. Perhaps he was still a bit bitter about the Sorcerer's Stone, but whatever the reason, the fact remained that Hagrid had a tendency to forget things were secrets when presented with rather unusual creatures. But Dumbledore had insisted that Hagrid had a rather unique relationship with Harry, Hermione and Ron, and that that friendship could very well keep Harry Potter and his two closest friends safe. Begrudgingly, Severus had agreed, but didn't dare admit to himself that the idea of harm coming to Hermione had colored a great deal of that allowance.  
  
Hermione. Her name had haunted his nights for the last month, the scent of her still lingering in his memory no matter how much he tried to shove it away. She was fifteen, young and pretty, too intelligent for her own good, and with a quick wit that with age could match his own. She was the stuff of old men's dreams, and therein lay the problem.  
  
She was a child, no mater how much Dumbledore tried to explain otherwise. Liberal use of the time turner had indeed aged Hermione nearly a year and a half, but that made her little more than about seventeen.  
  
Again he ran over the wizarding laws in his head. Long ago, when wizards had first begun to understand the workings of magic, it was quickly determined that not everyone had the gift of magical abilities. It came to pass then, that wizards discovered those born from two with magical abilities were more likely to possess those very same abilities. It was the age of births. As soon as witches were able to bear life they were encouraged to find suitable partners. In the old days, muggle girls of little more than eleven were sold off to become mothers or worse; in the wizarding world, things were at least a bit more advanced.  
  
No child under the age of fourteen was considered of consenting age, but over time, that age was shifted to fourth year of schooling. It was determined that by fourth year, the knowledge of wizarding rights and expectations were firmly engrained, and the now consenting youths were capable of making life decisions. As time moved down its methodic path, the laws stayed the same. Unwanted pregnancies were easily prevented and in the case where a child was conceived aborting potions or even stases charms could be placed, the latter allowing the mother to pick up the pregnancy at a later, more convenient date.  
  
At Hogwarts things weren't much different. Inter-house rules were fairly liberal about sleeping partners, and while pregnancy was not allowed during enrollment, a number of the graduating seventh years were parents within months due to stases charms. Rules between the houses were a bit harder to control and while mixed house relationships weren't discouraged, they were inherently harder. But by their fifth to sixth year, most students intent on such relationships were quietly shown some of the less well known secret passage ways by fellow upper classmen, and so the cycle continued.  
  
These secret passageways had been the way he'd met with Mellisson so many years ago. He'd lamented to Dumbledore about his anger at not being able to see his girlfriend more over one Christmas holiday, and the kind man had smiled, before showing him a few of the rather obscure paths to the Ravenclaw Tower. He smiled to himself, remembering those meetings rather fondly.  
  
But he had been as much a boy as Mellisson had been a girl back then. He'd admittedly had a bit more experience than she, but they'd at least been the same age. With Hermione things were horribly different. To begin, he was her teacher, and while such a thing was frowned upon, it was not considered against the rules. Second was the fact that he was nearly twenty years her senior. But he was of two minds concerning the age gap. The first was that he had no right to even consider claiming her since she was would have been five when he was a quarter century. However, there were things much more important than actual age, and while Hermione was still young, she conducted herself in much the way an early adult would-- making her cognitively far from the danger zone.  
  
But there were other things, things that hurt him now that he considered her something special. She was Harry's friend, and while his hatred of the boy was little more than show for his cover, the fact remained that both were nearly terrified of him. She feared him--the exact thing he'd needed her to do upon becoming Harry's friend, but it still threatened to make him slightly sick to his stomach--the looks of fear she often gave him when he became cold and cruel. He reminded himself that it was for her own protection, but that was little comfort to him now.  
  
Then there was Morganna. She'd be little more than Hermione's age, older or younger perhaps by a few months only. He needed to concentrate on protecting Morganna for the next two to three years. The Fates had been foggy on the exact dates of Harry's emerging talent, but it was expected to happen sometime during their seventh year. It was a long time to be alone now that he'd found a young woman capable of causing more than a general stir in his body. But did he really have a right to ask for anything more, when a large part of everything he was would be focused on caring only for his daughter? He was a man capable of multitasking to its most infinite degree, but he wasn't sure if he could juggle his heart in two drastically different directions.  
  
There was more to consider, but now wasn't the time. During his reverie, the door had opened, and Dumbledore entered, one hand against the softy shaking shoulder of Hagrid.  
  
When Hagrid found Severus's face in the crowd, the sobs became harder.  
  
"Oh, Severus! I's sooooo sssssooooorrrrryyyyyyy!!!" And with a near storming step, Hagrid pulled Severus from his chair and enveloped him in a gigantic bear hug.  
  
Struggling to breath in the half-giants grip, Severus reasoned it best to cater to the man he'd often shared his summers and holidays with.  
  
"Oh, put me down, Rubeus! You're crushing the life out of me!" The last statement seemed to work, and to the astonishment of Lupin and he assumed Black, Severus patted Hagrid on the back. "I thank you for your sentiments, friend."  
  
The room fell silent as the dark and dangerous Professor Severus Snape actually showed kindness to another. Most couldn't remember the last time they'd witnessed such a thing. Then again, most chose not to remember the shy, cocky, but kind boy from Slytherin house. Most hadn't seen him since the night before the Potter's deaths.  
  
Eventually they got Hagrid seated in an oversized chair next to Dumbledore's desk, but the kindly giant was still crying softly mumbling to himself. "…poor li'l thin'…all 'lone…"  
  
When Dumbledore cleared his throat, the room settled down, and the near two hundred total occupants came to attention.  
  
There was a mixture of trepidation and determination in Dumbledore's voice when he began. "To begin, there are some rather pressing matters that need to be disclosed. I make no illusions that most of you will find much of what we are about to tell you hard to believe, but I ask for your patience and your silence until we are through.  
  
"First, I would like to welcome Remus back to Hogwarts. His services as our new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor will undoubtedly be instrumental in preparing the children for Voldemort's return. To that end, I've authorized Remus to begin training the children in more advanced studies, and all seventh years will be learning enough magic to protect themselves, including a few of the unforgivables."  
  
A great murmur came from the faces of the old headmasters as they hung crowded upon the wall. "I understand that none of you would wish the children to know these things, but I feel, for their own safety, they must be taught enough of evil to know how to avoid it  
  
"With Remus's return, is another of our considered lost students. I ask that you all hold yourselves quiet as he presents himself. Sirius, if you will."  
  
With a growl, and the odd wave of magic that can only come from a master animagus, Sirius Black transformed from the great black dog, to a tall lean man with trimmed stylish black hair. His clothing was likewise black, and Severus had the impression that if he'd wanted too, the man could live in shadows without ever being seen. His eyes were still vaguely haunted, and it was with a mask of calculated caution that he gazed upon the gasping faces around the room.  
  
Over the next twenty minutes Black's story was revealed, and Severus watched as Remus softly touched Sirius's back during the tale of his escape. Severus was beginning to see a much clearer picture of the relationship that was now developing between the two old friends, but that was their business, and his was yet to come.  
  
"And there you have it," was Dumbledore's voice a few minutes later. "Sirius cannot hope to travel the halls as long as he is still a wanted man, so he will stay as Remus's pet in his animagus form. I completely trust him with any and all of the children, and I know you all will as well. Offer him your support and in every other respect, stay out of his way." There was little room to argue in Dumbledore's tone of voice, and so the masses wisely chose to remain silent.  
  
During the exchange of outraged and frightened voices which turned resigned and understanding, Black had refrained from looking at him, but as Dumbledore shifted the conversation to him, Black's eyes narrowed into tiny slits that spoke of whispered violence.  
  
He would have offered a sneering grin, but didn't think Dumbledore would appreciate it. Besides, he was counting on Black to help guard Morganna, he didn't have a choice but to make nice. However, he thought triumphantly, at least he'd been the one to have Mellisson, and not the Gryffindor Playboy himself. Mellisson had fallen in love and married him! He was tempted, but refrained, from sticking out his tongue.  
  
"Now friends, I must unfortunately remind you all of the oath you took upon accepting your current positions, be them resident ghosts, paintings, or staff. The information I am about to tell you is so delicate, that were it not for the safety of the individuals involved, I would be forced keep even you--my trusted friends--in the dark. Some of this, many of you know, some do not, so I will start at the beginning."  
  
Dumbledore drew a deep breath, and Severus found himself mimicking the actions of his mentor as he prepared himself for the secret driving force of his existence to be unveiled.  
  
"Many years ago, before Tom Riddle was even born, one of the legendary Fates came to the council of Magic and sought entrance. At first the grotesquely ugly creature was refused admittance, her appearance too horrible to look upon. But as it happened, one of the elders remembered her kind and allowed her to enter. The creature was dying, and with her few remaining breaths, she exhaled a prophecy that is now upon is:  
  
"Beyond the realm of magic,  
  
Past the vaulted gate,  
  
Through the shadows of the darkness,  
  
The serpent will await.  
  
The weapon hides inside the boy,  
  
The mark of death upon his head  
  
Who can slay the serpent.  
  
Arisen from its den.  
  
But child with the faulty eyes,  
  
And courage of the Lion,  
  
No weapon can be handled  
  
Without the aid of trial  
  
Enter child from my womb,  
  
Of beauty undefined  
  
For she will be the Fatemuse  
  
For the weapon deep inside.  
  
Meet they will, and meet they must,  
  
Like night to shadow's day,  
  
And awaken the winged Lion,  
  
As the Fatemuse begins to pray.  
  
Wary Wizards all you be,  
  
For evil comes to stay,  
  
And but the light of children  
  
Will come to save the day.  
  
"It is an old prophesy, one that laid hidden in the Ministry catacombs for over five hundred years. But I fear the resemblance to the situation now is quite clear, at least upon a cursory examination.  
  
"Voldemort is the serpent from beyond the realm of darkness, meaning he is from the muggle world. And young Harry Potter is none other than the boy with the mark of death upon his head. But the prophecy offers hope, stating clearly that Harry holds within himself some type of weapon against Voldemort. However, it is equally clear that something is required to unlock this weapon, and it is refereed to as the Fatemuse.  
  
"Long ago, stories were told of a breed of creatures called Fatemuse's. These creatures had the ability to causes fate to take place by unlocking the hidden abilities inside of the beings around them. Most believe they were little more than legend, and sadly few remember them at all. However these great beings are refereed to in the prophecy and so it must be believed that if Harry Potter and Voldemort are both here, then so too is the Fatemuse."  
  
Dumbledore paused, collecting his thoughts before continuing. "Some of you, are no doubt, wondering how the original connection was made between this ancient prophecy and Harry. About seventeen years ago, a Fate managed to kidnap two of our students, one Lily Evans and Mellisson Acarda. The two girls were eventually rescued, but they told a rather confusing if not poignant tale upon their return.  
  
"As it happened, this Fate too was about to die, but as it began to breath its last, it moved and softly placed a hand upon Lily's belly, telling her, her son would defeat the serpent one day. Then, the creature placed its other hand upon Mellisson's stomach, and foretold that she would bear the key to that defeat.  
  
"When both children were returned they came to me seeking guidance. We found the prophecy and quickly associated it with the rise of Voldemort to power over the last few decades.  
  
"That is what most of you do not know. What you do know is that Lily bore a son, Harry Potter; and that Mellisson bore a daughter, Alseeonae Snape." Severus tried unsuccessfully to ignore the looks of sad eyed pity that came his way at the mention of his wife and daughter. "The Ministry chose not to reveal the importance of both children to the public, and only a very tiny group of individuals knew of the children's significance."  
  
Dumbledore continued. "However, while the public knew nothing about the prophecy, Voldemort learned of it, and quickly identified Harry through his Death Eater spies. On the now famous night, Voldemort struck and killed Lily and James, but was defeated by some mysterious power so that Harry managed to survive--the legendary scar upon his head. Further, on that same night, Mellisson and her daughter were killed as well, meaning Harry Potter's Fatemuse, the being able to release the weapon to destroy Voldemort, had died.  
  
"But I get ahead of myself. Most of you think you know how the Ministry was able to learn of Voldemort's planned strike, if not too late. That I believe, is a fact that needs to be remedied right now."  
  
Turning his warm eyes and understanding smile upon Severus, Dumbledore's voice was smooth and calming as he spoke. "Popular belief holds Severus as a traitor, a Death Eater by choice. But the truth is, that from the beginning Severus was a spy not for the Ministry, but for me." A murmur flew across the room, and Severus allowed himself a moments weakness to close his eyes against their suddenly understanding faces. "I asked Severus to join Voldemort's group before I truly understood the dangers inherent in that fact, otherwise I would have died before allow him anywhere near those vial individuals."  
  
The venom and self-loathing in Dumbledore's voice forced Severus to open his eyes and look deeply into the shame of his mentor's gaze. He spoke without meaning too. "Once I was there, there was no choice but to continue, you know that Albus. Voldemort never hesitated to kill anyone he thought might betray him; I was safer as your spy than if I'd tried to run."  
  
In the silence of that confession, Dumbledore cleared his throat and began again. "The fact remains that unlike many believe, Severus never betrayed us, and has been keeping the guise of a defaulted Death Eater all this time for only one reason, and one reason only: On the night Mellisson Snape died, her daughter Alseeonae did not, Harry Potter's Fatemuse did not die."  
  
From the corner of Albus's desk, came the wailing sound of Hagrid's tears, and Severus quickly looked up into the tear filled and stunned eyes of Remus Lupin as the truth slowly sunk in.  
  
"On that night, it is believe that Voldemort began at Snape Manor, casting Cruciatus on Alseeonae, and then killing Mellisson with Avada Kedavra, using the mother's body to crush the child." Severus couldn't help it, he winced, covering his eyes with the palm of his right hand. Dumbledore saw and paused, allowing him the time he needed to collect himself before continuing at his nod.  
  
"When Severus and Moody arrived however, they found Alseeonae still alive. Through great effort and a very heart wrenching and painful recovery, Alseeonae survived Voldemort's attack."  
  
Black's dog like growl came from the corner by Lupin. "You mean to tell me, that Harry's Fatemuse has been alive all this time! Where is she then?!"  
  
Severus felt the anger rise in him, and in a flash he was on his feet, murder in his eyes.  
  
"How dare you--"  
  
But Black stood as well, poised for a fight. "What's the matter, Snape, get tired of playing daddy?"  
  
The cry was purely animalistic, and in one great leap, Severus was upon Black, his hands finding their mark easily. From some distant corner of his mind, he heard Dumbledore shouting, and felt Lupin's hands desperately trying to separate them. His wand was forgotten, he didn't need it. All he needed were his hands and the feel of bruising flesh below them.  
  
It took three of them, including Hagrid to pull Severus from Black's bleeding face, and as the portraits watched in silent horror, Severus allowed over a decade of truths and horrors to spill from his lips.  
  
"You filthy bastard! I died a little every day knowing Morganna wasn't with me! That because of me, Mellisson and my daughter would never be with me again! I had no choice! Keep Morganna with me and the Death Eaters would know she was still alive! Everyone knew Harry Potter lived, if they knew Morganna was still here as well, they would have stopped at nothing to destroy her, to keep her from giving Potter what he needed to kill the Dark Lord Voldemort!" Suddenly, the fight left him, and in a sob his muscles gave out.  
  
When he spoke again, it was with the haunting timber of a lost man. "Mellisson believe in the old traditions. So we named our daughter, our beautiful little girl Alseeonae Morganna Snape, and as tradition dictates told no one outside our family her middle name. At home we used it often." He choked on a sob. "Mellisson used to sing to her--my little baby girl…"  
  
The room stood in silent readiness for Severus to continue. Black, who now had a pained and haunted look upon his face seemed enraptured by Severus's continued recount.  
  
"He hurt her so badly that when I found her I thought she was dead, crushed beneath the crib and Mellisson's body. But she finally started to whimper, and at the hospital…gods below, some days I think it was my greatest crime to force her to live.  
  
"Broken bones, punctured abdomen, and nothing, not a damn thing could be done to speed up the process." He turned his tear-streaked face upon Black who recoiled at the sight. Severus's voice took on a painful desperate yell. "Not a damn thing could be done for the pain, not a thing! She cried day and night, night and day and still there wasn't anything I could do! The pain would cause her to move and then the bones wouldn't set right, so that they had to be re-broken and mended again--tortuously again. I couldn't hold her, couldn't touch her! I sat by her crib and cried with her, cried harder when the pain became too much, when she was so exhausted that all she could do was whimper and let tears fall from her eyes! I watched that for six months, Black! Six months I watched my only child suffer in ways no child should ever suffer! I did it all, knowing my wife was dead, and that there was no way I could keep my daughter with me! So don't you dare talk to me about being a father!"  
  
The fight was gone from him again, so that with a gentle tug, he found himself in a tight hug provided by Albus. Over his shoulder, he heard Remus's cold voice talking angrily to Black.  
  
Eventually, Severus was moved back to his chair, and Black was grudgingly and painfully cleaned up by Madam Pomfrey. When the room again fell silent, Severus chose to speak.  
  
His voice was low, the sound of tears still behind his usual calm coldness. "No one knew we called her Morganna, that is the nature of a Secret Name. So when I realized she could no longer stay safely with me, I went to Albus. He arranged for Morganna to be fostered to Arabella Figg in the States. My spying cover involved an illegitimate brother over there, and Alseeonae Snape, became Morganna Michaels. Her parents were supposedly killed in an automobile accident, and Arabella was to be her mother's sister, taking care of her. And I--I was to be the distant but affectionate uncle. The man who received two calls a week from his beautiful niece." He paused again, the bitterness hard to work around.  
  
"However, with Voldemort's return, Morganna's safety could not be guaranteed. Her safety has already been completely compromised by her chosen lifestyle." He stopped, not knowing exactly how to explain it all.  
  
Dumbledore stepped in for him. "Morganna is a rather famous individual, though it's true no one knows her by that name. Famous both inside the wizarding world and the Muggle, she goes by the name of Mellisson, a pop singer if I have my music vocabulary correct."  
  
"Mellisson?!" This from Flitwick, who quickly looked sorry he'd said anything before pressing forward. "I heard a few of the students talking about her music last term. She is rather famous to have made it all the way out to Hogwarts from the States."  
  
Dumbledore nodded. "Morganna is a very gifted young woman, but the fact remains that her career poses a great threat to everyone. Her public profile means she could not simply be pulled underground. In the end, I worked with her current headmaster to devise an exchange program. Morganna will attend Hogwarts from now until her graduation, so that she can remain protected on the grounds.  
  
"The rather difficult part of all this is that she has many obligations that would draw more attention to her if she were to miss. Currently she's scheduled for a multitude of public appearances both inside and out of the muggle world, not to mention something the children call, music videos. Then following the school year, she is to embark on a world tour, which she assures me, will be very…phat." He smiled, remember her energetic comments over tea the other day. "This all brings us to one single fact, Morganna's true identity cannot be known. Should anyone discover who she really is, there is no doubt that Voldemort will stop at nothing to have her killed, just as he relentlessly pursues young Mr. Potter. The ultimate worry is that because Morganna is more of a public figure, should Voldemort find out about her true lineage, she will be an easy target for him."  
  
Stopping, Dumbledore turned to them and fielded as many of the barrage of questions as he could, sparing Severus the need to answer some of the more personal ones.  
  
Eventually, the questions became more and more halted as the inhabitants of Hogwarts suddenly realized the two most powerful and important children in the known world were now completely at their mercy to protect.  
  
When there was nothing more to be said, Dumbledore found something else. With a smile on his face, he turned back to the faculty. "There is one final thing before I allow Minerva to gather Harry and Hermione from the throngs of students." He looked pointedly at Remus and Sirius. "I admit that Harry will be most please to learn of your return. He and Hermione will need to be instructed to remain silent concerning you, Sirius, but both children seem to understand the meaning of discretion."  
  
Lupin interrupted him. "Sir, I don't understand why Hermione needs to be dragged into this."  
  
Dumbledore leaned back in his chair. "That leads me directly into my last item, Remus. Morganna has made some rather interesting choices for her life, and due to her success, her previous headmaster saw fit to allow her some…extra leeway. To summarize, Miss Michaels," and from his use of her now standard name, those in the office knew her hiding at Hogwarts had begun. "Managed to fail all but her Potions class, last year. Now, American school systems are a bit different from ours, so she does have the opportunity to make up her last year's work. Therefore, her uncle and I," again the friendly reminder of Severus's place in all of this, "have enlisted the aid of Miss Granger--newly appointed prefect--to tutor Miss Michaels in her fourth year subjects."  
  
Dumbledore's expression turned secretive for a moment. "I'm sure I don't have to remind you that we have no idea exactly when Harry Potter's Fatemuse will enable him to use this weapon to destroy Voldemort. Also, while the two children played together as babies, we have no idea if the prophecy will affect their more adult interactions. Some speculated that it will be very much like souls meeting for the first time, as if they will instantly fall in love; while still others don't believe anything will happen until the appropriate time. But what does seem imperative, is that Morganna and Harry have some kind of link between them, and it has been determined that Miss Granger will fill that role rather nicely."  
  
He allowed them to consider this new information for a bit before turning to Minerva and then Hagrid. "My dear, if you'll be so kind as to find and escort Mr. Potter and Miss Granger here that would be most appreciated; and Hagrid, I do believe there are some first years that require a guide across the lake this evening."  
  
They rose and left the office, followed closely by most of the painted people, as they went to assume their places in their own frames. Finch and the ghosts took their leave as well, so that in the end, only the faculty remained.  
  
Severus was still trying to recover from his earlier outbursts, when Dumbledore addressed him.  
  
"Severus, perhaps now would be a good time for you to go down to the dungeons and prepare Morganna for her upcoming sorting. I must admit, I'm curious as to which house she'll be placed in tonight." Severus found that not a part of him cared with house his daughter--niece! He had to remember to think of her still as his niece! Which house she was placed in. All he wanted was for her happiness.  
  
He rose and moved towards the door when Albus's voice called him back. "Take a walk around the halls, Severus, then gather her and bring her back here. If we're going to be watching her every move, then we should at least come up with a convincing lie about the faculty needing to keep an eye on her due to her public status." Reasoning that was as good an excuse as any, Severus nodded before exiting the room.  
  
In his absence, Dumbledore's expression turned colder than anyone had ever seen it as his eyes fixated upon Black. The once considered criminal cringed under the powerfully enraged look. "I trust, Mr. Black, that you are now satisfied with Severus's answer to your horrific innuendo." Black nodded hesitantly. "I suggest you never allow such comments again. I abhor those that play favorites, but Severus is like a son to me, and I will not abide by such thoughtless comments again. This is clear to you?" Black nodded again. "Good. I am under no delusion that you and Severus will ever forgive each other for the past, but for Morganna and Harry's sakes, I suggest you put your best efforts forward. I would expect nothing less from James Potter's best friend."  
  
And with that parting comment, Dumbledore sat back in his chair and turned the smile back on. With a flick of his wand he levitated the candy dish over to where Black was sitting, huddled halfway between the back of the chair and Remus's unrelenting frame. "Lemon Drop?" 


	4. Chapter 3

Chapter 3  
  
Hermione was more than just a little nervous. She wasn't used to being called on by the Headmaster, not to mention brought to his office. Beside her Harry looked a little less nervous, but still, decidedly uncomfortable. No doubt he was wondering what he'd done this time.  
  
She looked at him quizzically as she had when they'd met on the train. Harry Potter sure had changed over the summer. He looked twice as tall as he had the year before, and Hermione reasoned he'd gained at least half a foot in height, if not more. His voice had also changed, no longer the semi squeaky voice from before, Harry's voice had grown with his frame, so that his it was now a nice soft baritone. When he'd called out to her at platform 9 ¾ she hadn't recognized him; it hadn't been until he was just a meter in front of her that she realized who her shy friend had become. Ron had been just as surprised when he and Ginny came running through the divide though, so she hadn't been too embarrassed.  
  
She smiled, remembering the drooling look on Ginny's face when she'd seen the new and improved Harry Potter. Hermione felt a little bad for her since she knew from talking to Harry earlier that the very idea of dating his best friend's sister had him more nervous than fighting Voldemort without his wand. She had to laugh; but after the letter she'd received from Viktor only two weeks ago, Hermione had a feeling she and Ginny would be spending some pity party time together.  
  
All thoughts of said party ended the moment Professor McGonnagall moved out of their line of sight. Seated around the room was the entire faculty of Hogwarts, but more importantly, to the right, nearly next to the old and comfortable fireplace, sat Remus Lupin and Sirius Black.  
  
Without having to look she knew Harry's face had lit up like a Christmas tree. She knew her face must have looked much the same considering the looks the two men were giving them. She'd called Remus's name before taking flight, and from her side, she knew Harry was racing towards his godfather as well.  
  
Remus stood to meet her, taking her into his arms and giving her a gigantic hug. He looked better than he had last year, and Hermione hoped that the man's good appearance meant that he was happy.  
  
"Sirius, what are you doing here?" Harry was still hugging his godfather, and as Hermione looked, she thought she'd never forget the look of happiness upon his face.  
  
Sirius's voice was gruff like usual, but there was something friendlier, lighter about it as well. It was a very nice voice to listen to. "Heard a rumor that Voldemort had risen and was planning something with my godson. Well, as you can imagine, I wasted little time getting here." He turned to smile at Remus. "And since I was coming, I thought I'd bring Remus with me." Black smiled, and Hermione smiled as well, receiving a tight squeeze from Remus.  
  
"That's so incredible! But don't you think you should be hiding or something?" This from Harry, who was now receiving a one armed hug from Remus as Hermione was still captured beneath his first.  
  
Remus answered. "Sirius is staying here undercover. I've been offered my position back for Defense Against the Dark Arts, so to keep an eye on Hogwarts, Sirius gets to play pet doggie for a while." Hermione looked up just in time to see a strange look pass between the two adults, but she ignored, it taking her turn to hug Sirius.  
  
"That's so great, having you back as our professor." Said Harry, only now receiving the full on hug since Hermione'd moved to the next victim.  
  
"Yes," came her reply. "We haven't had a good DADA professor since you, Re-um, I mean Professor Lupin." He smiled at her and thanked her before they exchanged a few more practical tidbits, like how summers had gone and if anything strange had happened to Harry.  
  
When it seemed as if they'd finally asked enough questions to really get down to a good conversation, Professor Dumbledore cleared his throat and reminded Hermione and Harry that they were still in the Headmaster's office and there was probably a reason.  
  
Harry took a seat next to Remus, while Hermione moved directly across from him and onto the only couch not taken in the warm office. Hermione couldn't help but feel happy for Harry. Here he was, finally surrounded by people he considered his family. She knew how hard it had been for him to not have a loving family, and while he covered most of it up, she could sometimes-like now-see though.  
  
He caught her looking at him and smiled affectionately. The look reminded Hermione that this year she was going to be very careful not to give anymore people the impression that she and Harry were dating. She had a feeling she'd get a lot more than cursed letters and howlers now that Harry was shaping up into such a handsome man. Surprisingly, she was fine with that, happy even that one of her best friends was genetically so fortunate. Most of the girls in their house would be dying for Harry to ask them out, but Hermione was content to be the best friend. Besides, how could she ever consider a guy who thought Quidditch was more fun than Arithmancy?  
  
Suddenly, Dumbledore cleared his throat again, and Hermione turned to listen to him. "Miss Granger, Mr. Potter, it is a pleasure to have you back with us. This is shaping up to be quite an interesting year, but I'll save the fun details for my speech before dinner. The both of you are here for different reasons, but I thought you might be less intimidated if we brought you up together." He beamed at them both, and she noticed that even Harry had to duck under the realization that Dumbledore knew something he wasn't supposed too.  
  
"In any event, Mr. Potter, I thought you'd enjoy learning in private the return of both Professor Lupin and Sirius." He winked at Harry, who nodded enthusiastically before receiving a gentle squeeze of his hand from Remus while Black nodded. "Splendid, then I'm sure you and Miss Granger can also appreciate the delicate nature of Sirius's return. I trust you both to keep this quiet and to inform Mr. Weasley to do the same." They nodded. "Excellent. Then, now for you Miss Granger-Oh, Severus, you've returned."  
  
Hermione grimaced as she turned, Snape catching and hold her eyes immediately. For the last month she'd been plagued by images of him in tight jeans and a leather jacket. When she'd gotten the letter from Viktor, a part of her had even been glad because now she could think about this dark and mysterious man without feeling like she'd betrayed him. She wasn't stupid though, it was another crush on a teacher, and Hermione was well versed in those. She'd had a crush on Lockhart and even a very teeny tiny one on Professor Lupin as well. She couldn't help it, intelligent men attracted her more than looks or money ever could, but-she thought as she remembered Snape in leather-looks couldn't hurt.  
  
She was so caught up in examining Snape, that when her name was called in an astonished cry, it took her a full second to even glance at the speaker. When she did, the dark haired girl gave another gasp before saying her name again.  
  
Suddenly, as all the girl's features came into focus, Hermione knew exactly who it was, and stood in equal astonishment.  
  
"Morganna?!"  
  
"Oh my God! Mione! It is you! What are you doing here?"  
  
"I go to school here! What are you doing here?"  
  
"I go to school here too!"  
  
Hermione was befuddled. "No that can't be right, you're not a witch."  
  
The raven haired girl looked just as convinced as Hermione. "Of course I'm a witch. You're the one that's not the witch."  
  
"Yes I am."  
  
And suddenly, the girl smacked her forehead loudly with the palm of her hand. "Oh my God, of course! Unicorn education 101!"  
  
"And, that crack about chocolate frogs!"  
  
For a long moment the two just looked at each other, Hermione's brown eyes glued in amazement to nearly clear blue ones. And then suddenly it all hit home.  
  
"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"  
  
With a race of limbs and a plethora of jumping and squealing, both girls came together and were hugging and jumping around the room. One look at the other and they'd be squealing again before engaging in more jumping and more hugging.  
  
This was Morganna Figg, Hermione's roommate from the conference at Cambridge on Magic Through the Ages. She couldn't believe it, the two of them had had so much fun at the conference. They'd gone to every meeting together, and partied after every meeting a little too long, only to come back to the dorm room, sleep for four hours and do it all over again. They'd shared girly secrets, and exchanged writing addressees. Hermione had been so sad thinking that she'd finally found a girl she could be friends with, one that while obsessed about boys and clothes, still understood her when she wanted to talk about academics. Morganna was far from academically inclined, but she at least tried to listen and asked questions if she didn't understand something. Mostly they'd been total opposites, and that had been their biggest attraction to becoming friends. Their opposing ideas, and what Hermione had originally thought was little more than a muggle verses magic user and an American vs an English girl, now seemed as if they weren't so different after all.  
  
Eventually, Hermione's legs got tired from all the jumping, and she just hugged Morganna, wrapping her arms about the other girl's neck in a silent prayer of thanks that she wouldn't be alone with a group of boy from now on.  
  
Morganna pulled back first, her American accent sounding reassuring now to Hermione. "I can't believe it's you! I didn't think I'd know anyone when I came to Hogwarts, and now I find out you're here! Oh god, I'm so excited now!" She did a few more jumps before giving Hermione another hug.  
  
"I can't believe it either, though I didn't think you were a magic user so why would I think we'd meet at Hogwarts." Ever the practical and logical one.  
  
"Oh I know! I was sure you were just some muggle girl the way you were so fascinated by magic in the total there's-no-way-this-could-happen kind of way! I mean when they started talking about bringing people back from the dead and you got all excited I just wanted to shake you and tell you there was no way! Now, I find out you're just like me!" Morganna's eyes went wide, and with a squeal and a tug, she pulled Hermione down onto the couch by their legs.  
  
"Oh Mione, you just have to tell me all about your summer. Oh my god, did you get a letter from Viktor yet?!"  
  
Hermione grimaced before waving off the comment with her hand. "Oh, I do not want to talk about him."  
  
Morganna understood her instantly. "Oh, that bastard! Did he do what I think he did?"  
  
"Worse, he can't go out with me because his mommy doesn't like Muggle bornes."  
  
"What a prick! You're better off without him anyway. You need someone smart like you are. Someone with lots of brains. Besides, you know what they say about Quidditch players-" And suddenly, Morganna raised up her pinky finger and then bent it in a slow deflating motion. Hermione squealed and covered her eyes.  
  
"Morganna you can't say things like that, it's not proper!"  
  
"I didn't say anything! Besides, I think it's true! How else can those guys sit on brooms like that all day?" It was as if no one else were in the room, as if two girls were getting together for a social call. Hermione was completely comfortable with Morganna and vise versa. She knew Morganna had a stressful schedule, so the two of them had bonded quickly over that fact, among other things.  
  
Both girls giggled before Hermione waved the comment aside, not daring to look at Harry. "I'm sure you'll find others who'd disagree."  
  
"Yeah, but if they're not willing to drop'm so I can measure then I don't really care." They giggled again, and then suddenly Morganna remembered something.  
  
"Oh my gosh! I totally forgot! Uncle-" She never really finished. Morganna had taken Hermione's hand and had turned back towards the door, when in mid turn her line of sight had fallen upon Harry. Hermione thought it was just a tad odd that the room fell deathly silent when Morganna did.  
  
The hand around Hermione's tightened painfully, and she could only watch stunned as Morganna locked eyes with Harry and did not turn away. Hazarding a look, Hermione saw that even Harry was staring openly at Morganna, as if he couldn't believe his eyes-as if he'd never seen a girl before.  
  
Suddenly dawning realization came over Hermione and she giggled just a bit as she figured it out. With a tug on Morganna's hand to get her attention-which she was unable to obtain-Hermione turned to her friend and gave introductions.  
  
"Morganna Figg, may I introduce Harry Potter; Harry, my friend Morganna. I was telling you about her on the train."  
  
Morganna's voice was dreamy when she spoke. "Michaels."  
  
Confused, Hermione questioned. "What do you mean, 'Michaels'?"  
  
Morganna turned to her now, that stunned expression still on her face. "My last name is Michaels not Figg, I just use that name when I'm trying to remain incognito."  
  
The completely confused expression on Hermione's face never really got addressed, as Morganna suddenly took her other hand as well before bringing both up to her chest. "Hermione, is that who I think it is?" This said in a voice that could only be considered a poorly done stage whisper.  
  
"Um, yes, this is Harry Potter."  
  
"Oh. My. God!" And then before anyone could stop her, Morganna was out of her seat and across the small space that separated one side of the circle from another. In a seizing motion she grabbed Harry's still stunned hand and began to pump it vigorously.  
  
"OH MY GOD! I have every single one of your Triwizard Posters!!! And I have all your Rita Skeeter articles too-though those were harder to get since I don't live in England! Oh my God, it's Harry Potter!!!" With another squeal, Morganna was nearly jumping up and down, and it seemed that that fact finally propelled Harry out of his stupor.  
  
Harry stood before shaking Morganna's hand again. "A-and I've got every single one of your albums. I-I can't believe I'm meeting you!" With a wide grin, Harry smiled down at Morganna from a height of over six inches beyond the already five, seven girl.  
  
But Morganna just smiled embarrassingly, waving off the comment with her hand that wasn't still desperately clutching Harry's. "Oh my gosh, that's just some silly old album. But you! The way you won the Triwizard Tournament! That was so incredible!" And then it was as if the very idea of talking to Harry Potter had completely overwhelmed the girl's inherent drive to avoid self-embarrassment because, Morganna turned half way around then and addressed Hermione in what could only be consider the perpetual move of an airhead. In a horrible whisper, she spoke excitedly at Hermione. "Oh my god!!! He's so tall!" Before swinging completely back to Harry and picking up right where she left off.  
  
"I mean my heart just about stopped dead during the first challenge! The way you flew around those dragons! That was the most incredible thing I've ever seen-not that I saw it, but my uncle told me all about how you'd managed to get around the Black you'd been given! Oh my god, that must have been so scary! I just about died, I'm telling you! I read all about it in the papers! The way you Accio'd your racing broom onto the field and then flew circles all over those dragons-not that I think it was very fair to use mother dragons protecting their clutches, I mean really how barbaric!-but it's no wonder you did so well, I mean you are the youngest Seaker on your house Quidditch team in over-Whomp!" Suddenly, both of Morganna's hands flew over her mouth and she had the most horrified expression in her eyes.  
  
For a long silent moment no one said or did anything, and as Hermione watched, it suddenly became very clear what Morganna had just remembered.  
  
"OH MY GOD! I so totally did not mean what I said about Quidditch players just a second ago!" Hermione could barley suppress a giggle at her friends unwitting stupidity. "I mean, I'm sure you and everyone else on the team are just-I mean-What I mean is-" Suddenly, Morganna turned around and addressed Hermione with panicked eyes. "What the hell do I mean?"  
  
At this Hermione couldn't help but bust out laughing to which Morganna could only scowl. When her laughter didn't immediately sease under the look, Morganna moved over to Hermione and towered over her. "How could you let me say that when you knew Harry Potter was in the room?!" Hermione only laughed harder at that. "Mioneeeeeee," came the whining response.  
  
Finally, Hermione calmed down to faint giggles as she looked into Morganna's pleading eyes. However, her response back sent her and a good number of the other room's occupants into fits of laughter. "You mean that you'd very much like Harry to drop his knickers so you can measure?!"  
  
Appalled, Harry, shook his head and colored to a deep red that Hermione couldn't ever remember seeing. Morganna looked just about ready to die. Then, to her credit, Morganna recovered. Turning around she addressed the now bright red Harry.  
  
"What I meant to say," and she looked over her shoulder to give Hermione a dirty look. "Was that I'm sorry I made that comment. I don't even know that much about Quidditch if you want to know the truth." And then she turned on the charm, batting her eyelashes much like Ashley had done to Snape only a month before. "But you know, I've always been fascinated by the game. We don't play it that much back home, well, at least not as much as you guys in England seem to. My uncle says everyone here watches the matches, but I really don't understand the game that well." Then, moving in for the kill, Morganna tipped her head just slightly to the side and smiled sweetly. "You would mind taking some time out of your really busy practice schedule to explain how the game works, would you Harry? Maybe even show me how you ride so fast on that broom of yours?" It was the perfect display of feminine power, and as expected, it worked like a charm.  
  
"Sure! I wouldn't mind at all!"  
  
Both Morganna and Harry were more than a little perturbed when the whole room erupted into howls of laughter.  
  
Hoping to save some face, and remembering where she'd been going to begin with, Morganna returned to Hermione's side before slapping her in the arm. "I'm never forgiving you for this, Mione, so you can just forget about me giving you that skirt I was going to mail you!" And then, turning to her right, she looked back at Snape and smiled.  
  
"Uncle Severus, I'd like you to meet my friend-though that's suddenly been called into question-Hermione, though you know her as Mione. I met her at the conference, remember?" Then without waiting for a reply, Morganna turned back to Hermione. "And Mione, this is my-What?"  
  
Perhaps it was the look of abject horror that made Morganna stop, or maybe the fish out of water open mouthed gaping, but either way, it was clear that Hermione was very much surprised.  
  
Snape took it all in stride, and with a sneer on his face, addressed Morganna's back. "We've met." And this to Hermione. "I do expect to see you tomorrow evening for the start of your detention, Miss Granger. Do be on time."  
  
Dawning realization came over Morganna then, and she turned back to her uncle as Hermione could only nod at the Professor, suddenly embarrassed by her reasons for those detentions. Morganna did not look all that impressed. "Are you trying to tell me that those nice ghosts were telling the truth?!" Again not waiting for Snape to answer, Morganna turned back to address Hermione. "It's not true is it, Hermione? I mean, my uncle's the kindest, sweetest guy in the whole wide world! There's no way a single person in the known universe wouldn't absolutely love him! I mean, you like him, don't you, Hermione?"  
  
It suddenly felt as if the weight of the entire past four years were upon her shoulders. Her new friend's desperate eyes were locked with her own, and Hermione knew without looking that Harry was just as stuck as she was. How could she tell Morganna that her UNCLE was the biggest bastard in the castle? How could she explain that he'd terrorized them all for the last four years, and treated Harry like he was worse than Yargalo sludge? How could she tell her, the horrible things he'd said personally to her, things that had made her cry on more than one occasion?  
  
Easy. She couldn't.  
  
"Um, yeah. I mean, he's really smart.and um.he teaches us all kinds of.stuff. And.um."  
  
Suddenly, Morganna saw through the lie and rounded on her uncle. "Uncle Severus! How could you?! I have to make friends with the kids here! How am I supposed to do that if even Hermione-study girl poster- child for the entire world-doesn't even like you?!"  
  
"I didn't say I didn't like him!" Came Hermione's desperate reply.  
  
"You didn't have too, Mione, you're a horrible liar. That lie was even worse than the one you told to get us back onto campus after getting-"  
  
"-nearly abducted by rapists! Right?!"  
  
Wide eyes, Morganna just shook her head from side to side. "You really do suck at this." Then, turning around she looked back to her uncle. "Well? What am I supposed to do now?"  
  
Snape sneered. "It is not my responsibility to help you find friends."  
  
Morganna's indignant tone shattered what would have otherwise been one of Snape's finest tirades. "Don't you pull that face with me! I'm not the lady that confused you at the coffee cart! An Americano is black coffee, for crying out loud! I have to make nice with the British people and they already think I talk funny, when it's really them who are talking funny. I mean what's up with this 'cricket' thing?! Who ever heard of calling good things 'cricket'? Only English people could come up with something stupid like that! Nobody's going to like me!" And then with a defeated half wail, Morganna covered her face with her hands.  
  
The first thing that Hermione noticed was that Snape's face did a complete one-eighty into territory she'd never seen before-total and utter concern. The hard lines of his face softened, his eyes relaxing into a grimace not of annoyance but of pain. And his voice when he spoke, Hermione had never heard it sound so.guilty.  
  
"Morganna.I'm sorry." Hermione's heart nearly stopped at the words coming from Snape's mouth. "Please don't cry." She heard Harry choke across from her.  
  
Morganna sniffled. "B-but how am I going to make any," another sniffle, "friends if you're so mean all the time?"  
  
Snape sighed, his arm going around the shoulders of his niece. "If I.try to be less.mean, will you please not cry?"  
  
She sniffled again. "Only if you really promise to try." Again another sniffle.  
  
Snape nodded, then realized she couldn't see from behind her hands. "I promise."  
  
"Great!" Came the reply from the now completely perky, completely not crying, Morganna. She smiled knowingly at Snape's stunned face, before leaning up on her toes and kissing his cheek. "You're the best uncle in the whole wide world! I just know I'll make tons of friends now!" Then with a little flourish, she moved to sit to Hermione's right on the couch, winking once in the process of settling down.  
  
Snape for his part looked exactly like a man in his position should look, completely and totally had. He sat down with a grunt and a few murmured words under his breath.  
  
Dumbledore looked like he was using every skill he'd learned in his considerable lifetime to keep himself from laughing. "Well then, I suggest we continue introductions." He turned to address Morganna, offering her a knowing wink. "Due to your public profile, Miss Michaels, the school has decided that it would be most beneficial if you knew all of the faculty on staff, should you require assistance of any kind."  
  
Slightly confused, Hermione looked to Morganna as the Headmaster began to make introductions around the room. What did Dumbledore mean by saying "public profile"? Was he referring to the fact that Snape was her uncle? Come to think about it, what did Harry mean "every one of your albums"? What was going on?  
  
Half way through Dumbledore's introductions the truth slammed into Hermione like a fist. "You're the singer?!"  
  
Perplexed by Hermione's sudden rudeness and extremely loud voice right in her ear, Morganna turned to look at her before suddenly realizing something. "Oh, that's right! I forgot that you didn't know I was a singer. Yeah, I've got like two pop albums out back home and one abroad." Suddenly remembering something else, Morganna turned back to Harry and batted her eyelashes again. "By the way, Harry, it's really a very nice complement you having both my albums. I mean it must have been really, really hard for you to get Magical Water in England."  
  
Hermione didn't hear Harry's hormone driven reply. "No, I mean, you're the singer that's so popular!"  
  
Annoyed again by Hermione stating the obvious and interrupting her quality Harry Potter time, Morganna turned back in exasperation. "We've established that already Hermione, stay with me here."  
  
She tried again. "No, I'm tutoring the singer-I mean-you, all this year!" Then as if the knowledge suddenly dawned on her. "You failed all your classes last year?! How in the world did you manage to do that?"  
  
Morganna puffed up with indignation. "I did not fail all my classes last year, Hermione." Then with less force. "I passed Potions just fine, it was the rest of the classes that were hard. Besides, you try passing classes when you're only there half the time and still doing five hours a day of dance practice and music practice, and then still try to squeeze a second album, and," she stressed the 'and' forcefully, "get some sleep! I guarantee nobody'd get good grades under those circumstances-well, you, but we're not talking about you!"  
  
"Oh please! First, I'd place all my activities on little slips of paper and cast an Organize charm. Then I'd-" Sound suddenly became muffled as Morganna placed her well manicured hand against Hermione's mouth.  
  
"Spare me! I couldn't do it, ok! Now what's this about you being my tutor?" There wasn't any malice in her words, only a growing need to shut Hermione up, and find out about this new tidbit.  
  
Hermione sighed, moving Morganna's hand from her mouth. "I said, I'm your tutor this year. I'm supposed to help you get ready for your O.W.L.S. on the material you should have learned during your fourth year."  
  
"O.W.-what's? Speak English! Or, not English.speak American!"  
  
"Your exams to pass into sixth year!" Said Hermione in exasperation.  
  
"What's sixth year? I'm way done with the sixth grade if that's what you mean, and I'll have you know I got straight A's before my music took off!"  
  
"A's?"  
  
"Yeah, you know, the best grades you can get."  
  
"You mean you got 4.0's."  
  
"Yeah, whatever. Now back to me repeating the sixth grade again-"  
  
"No, no, that's sixth year. It's like.um.like your second to the last year of um.high school in the states."  
  
"That's junior year if you want to be so smart about it! So fine, I failed my freshman year and now I have to do freshman year over again while still doing sophomore year. Fine, I can handle that. And it's America, you tweed wearing tea drinker!"  
  
At the angry scowl both girls gave each other, they suddenly both started cracking up. Morganna had to hold onto Hermione to keep from falling onto the floor, and Hermione felt tears leave her eyes from the pressure.  
  
When it seemed like they'd never stop, Dumbledore cleared his throat for their attention. "I'm very glad to see both of you are in such high spirits concerning this revelation. However, if you don't mind, I think I'll continue with the introductions." Both girls sweetly chastised, they settled down and allowed the headmaster to continue, their hands held tightly in friendship between them.  
  
"This is Professor McGonnagall. She will be your Transfigurations Professor."  
  
Morganna looked horrified. "Please don't get mad at me if my transfigurations don't work quite right. Last year I was supposed to transfigure a pin cushion into a porcupine, but the pin cushion just grew legs and started running around the room. The worst part is that someone opened the door before anyone could catch it. It's still running around the Microsoft compound terrorizing the muggle programmers. Headmaster William Gates told me not to worry about it, that they'd eventually find it, but no one at Magic's Gate would talk to me for a week, because the stupid thing kept sneaking up in people and sticking them in the butt."  
  
McGonnagall looked halfway between horrified and a fit of giggles. "We shall work on your pronunciation I think then, Miss Michaels."  
  
They went around the room from there, Hermione interjection her own tidbits at Professor Trelawany and Vector. Finally they passed Harry, to which Morganna had to smile sweetly and give a half wave-of which Harry shyly returned-when they finally came upon Professor Lupin.  
  
"And this my dear, is Professor Lupin, your new Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor." He didn't get much farther, and neither did Remus as he tried to say hello.  
  
Sitting forward in her seat, Morganna spoke quickly. "Oh, I have a question, is it ok if I ask a question, or do I have to wait until class?" A little stunned, Lupin nodded for her to continue. "OK, so I've seen, like, every vampire movie ever made! I saw Bram Stoker's Dracula." She turned back to Hermione. "Winnona Rider was so totally excellent in that movie, and Gary Oldman was so completely sexable!" She pretended to swoon, as Hermione balked at the word 'sexable'. "Anyway," she continued now looking back at Lupin. "I saw Interview With a Vampire-of which Tom Cruise gets my vote for sexiest vampire in the world! That man can bite me any day! Then I saw the sequel, though no where near as good, Queen of the Damned; and finally I just saw Dracula 2000. I know what you're thinking- that movie came out ages ago-but I was in Australia at the time and I didn't get to see it until it made it to video.  
  
"Anyway! My question is this: are there really vampires or is that just Hollywood?" And then, to cover her tracks she interjected, "Now, don't be mad if I'm already supposed to know this. I had DADA right after lunch so I usually tried to catch an hour and a half's worth of sleep before going to dance practice-not that I'm going to sleep in your class, Professor Lupin! Promise, cross my heart and hope to die!" And she crossed her heart.  
  
Lupin just looked amused. "I'm sorry to inform you, Miss Michaels, but there are indeed real vampires."  
  
"Oh my god, you're kidding!" Lupin shook his head. "And they suck blood and everything?!" Lupin nodded. "Well, I'll be!" She turned to Hermione. "Did you know there were real and true vampires?" Smiling, Hermione nodded. To which Morganna replied. "Geesh! I bet they're ugly and icky too! I bet they don't look anything like Tom Cruze! This just sucks! The next thing you know, there'll be all kinds of icky creatures running around, like werewolves and bog monsters!" At Hermione's suddenly horrified expression, Morganna turned back to Lupin and completely missed his look of sudden concern. "Oh my god! There aren't werewolves and bog monsters too, are there?!"  
  
Dumbledore rescued Lupin as he floundered to respond. "Morganna, it is quite common knowledge, that Professor Lupin himself is indeed a werewolf."  
  
Eyes as wide as saucers, Morganna turned back to Lupin. "Shut! Up! You're a werewolf for real?"  
  
Lupin nodded, his head tilting slightly down in shame. "Unfortunately, yes."  
  
"THAT IS SO TIGHT!!!"  
  
At Morganna's outburst, Lupin looked up, horror and just an ounce of hope in his eyes. "It is far from "tight", Miss Michaels. Werewolves are extremely dangerous creatures during the full moon."  
  
Morganna wasn't hearing anything about it. "So what, during the full moon you get all 'grrrrrr'?" Lupin nodded. "And the moons out, like what? Three days, right?" Lupin nodded again. "So?" At his wide eyes she finished her tirade. "What? You're a monster three days out of the month and so am I! Let me tell you! I don't care how horrible you are as a werewolf, it's nothing like I am the first three days of my period!""  
  
Hermione shrieked and ducked her head, closing her eyes in complete and total embarrassment. Morganna turned at her sound. "What? Oh, is that one of those things you were telling me about before? One of those 'English people do not discuss that' things?" Hermione nodded, her eyes still hidden. "Oh for crying out loud! That's ridiculous! I mean you have periods don't you?"  
  
"Of course we do, we just don't talk about them like you Yanks do!"  
  
"Well maybe if you talked about them you could talk about other things; and maybe if you talked about stuff, you guys wouldn't be so stuffy all the time! I mean really! Trying to get you into that black leather mini skirt when we went dancing was like-"  
  
Hermione's hand shot out and covered Morganna's mouth quickly. "Do shut up, Morganna, before you get me into anymore trouble."  
  
Morganna nodded, and Hermione removed her hand. She should have left it there. "Well it's not as if you were so drunk you took it off or anything!"  
  
"Oh god."  
  
"Anyway," and she turned back towards a still stunned Lupin. "I figure if Grandpa Albus thinks you're ok to teach then who am I to say you're not? I mean really, I didn't even know there were werewolves!"  
  
It took a moment, but a very shy, very grateful smile slowly spread across Remus's face. "Thank you, Miss Michaels. That was a series of very kind things to say."  
  
Morganna beamed. "No problem, teach!" Remus at least had the good manners not to grimace. "So, anyway, back to---PUPPY!!!!!!"  
  
In a mad dash, Morganna was across the room, and hugging Sirius Black's animagus form for all she was worth. Hermione reasoned that Black must have changed while she and Morganna had be reacquainted. Morganna had a hangman's grip about the dogs neck, and was pulling and squeezing to her hearts content, all the while kissing his doggie face and cooing too him. "Oh, what a cute puppy! Yes you are, yes you are! Who's a cute puppy? You's the cute puppy!" Then suddenly, she pulled back, as if just starting to realize something very strange. "You're a very big puppy! A very, very big puppy!" And then she continued as before, as if the height of the dog could be easily accounted for, even though it stood nearly chest high. "But you're the cutest big puppy I've ever seen! Yes you are! Who's you're master? Hm? Who's your master?"  
  
From the chair next to the enthusiastic girl, Remus Lupin let out an uncharacteristic snort of laughter. "I would have to say, Miss Michaels, that he is mine." This before laughing as if to a private joke. "I would definitely say I am his master."  
  
Morganna stopped at that, a very quizzical look in her eyes. "He's your dog?" Remus nodded. Smiling happily, Morganna then continued with the dog, scratching it behind the ears and kissing its head. "What's his name, Professor Lupin?"  
  
And suddenly the laughter died in Remus. This was obviously a question he wasn't at all ready for, as the man looked flummoxed for a full second--long enough for Morganna to look at him again with that quizzical look.  
  
Caught, Remus said the first thing he could when looking at Black in animagus form. "Um, Blackie?" It was said as a half question, but Morganna missed it; she was too caught up in being exasperated.  
  
"Wait! So let me get this straight. You're a werewolf that has a dog for a pet, your last name is Lupin which is a derivative from the word luna meaning moon, and you have a black dog named Blackie?" Remus cautiously nodded his head. But Morganna just turned right back to Black and started cooing over him again. "You're master's not too original, is he Blackie? No he isn't. That's ok, I bet he treats you real nice though since he knows what it's like to eat doggie biscuits! Yes I bet he does!" And she continued to pet him, oblivious to the quasi insult she'd all but thrown at the new Defense Against The Dark Arts Professor.  
  
This time it was Snape that stepped in, and Hermione wasn't sure if it was to save the rest of them from having to listen to Morganna continue on about ''the puppy" or just because if she kissed Sirius one more time he might be sick; he did look mad enough to spit.  
  
"Morganna, kindly sit down so the Headmaster can continue." His voice was cool but no where near as destructive as it usually was when addressing a student. She noticed the same hope enter Harry's eyes--they might actually survive fifth year potions after all.  
  
Slightly disgruntled, Morganna returned to her seat, smiling again to Hermione.  
  
The headmaster continued. "Well, now that introductions have been made, I think it's time we adjourn to the great hall. I do believe the feast this year will be quite enjoyable as the house elves have been working all day on it." He smiled at Hermione as they stood to leave, Morganna desperately clutching her hand.  
  
"I'm so nervous! Which house are you in, Hermione? Are you in Slytherin?"  
  
Slightly insulted by the very thought of being a Slytherin, Hermione shook her head. "No, Gryffindor. " And then, she thought she'd have a little fun. "You know, Morganna, Harry's in Gryffindor too, and in our same year." She didn't have to say another word.  
  
In a rush of wide eyes and a half-contained squeal of joy, Morganna dropped Hermione's hand to grab a hold of Harry's right arm. "Oh, Harry, wouldn't it be so tight if we got put in the same house! Then we could do all sorts of stuff together!"  
  
Stricken dumb by the raven-haired beauty on his arm, Harry could only smile and nod as the two left the room together leaving Hermione behind.  
  
However, she took it in stride. "That's going to be the funniest thing to watch all year long!"  
  
She laughed at her own joke, following after her two best friends. She never saw the dark look that followed after her retreating frame; never even saw that Snape's eyes didn't leave her until long after the door closed behind her. 


	5. Chapter 4

Chapter 4  
  
(Hella Good, by No Doubt. All rights reserved.)  
  
Gods Below! Could he be any more pathetic?  
  
The teachers were filing out of the room, but by some unstated command, Severus was staying behind. Dumbledore smiled softly to him as the rest of the faculty moved away, most of them not knowing how to meet his eyes.  
  
That suited him fine, he wasn't ready to look at anyone just yet.  
  
When he'd managed to pry the set of headphones off Morganna--which ran on magical energy--he'd been more than a little nervous, and a little disorientated. Talking about Mellisson did that to him, perhaps it always had. To say he'd simply loved her more than any man had ever loved a woman couldn't even come close to the truth. The memory of her hair, the sound of her now faded voice in his ear, those things had kept him bound to the thin gold band tucked safely away in his chest. There were more wards and traps around that tiny piece of jewelry than were perhaps around the whole of Gringotts, but it didn't matter, he was bound to her, through life and death.  
  
Then there was Morganna. His beautiful daughter had looked up at him sheepishly as he glared down at her and told her the music was far too loud. She'd brushed him off saying the music at her concerts was way louder, but he'd made her promise not to turn it up that high again or he'd take them away. Admitting defeat, she'd nodded, kissed his cheek, and ran to the main room to grab her school robe. He didn't tell her that the robe had belonged to her mother, couldn't tell her because every time he thought about it, his throat seized and he thought he'd never be able to talk again.  
  
She looked just like her mother. Even as she ran away from him in her excitement to get ready for her sorting, she looked like Mellisson. Morganna had been a twirler since the time she could walk. As soon as she was able she'd begged him to twirl her around in tight circles, the faster the better. The first time she'd asked he'd had to fight every instinct he had not to slap her. Mellisson had been a twirler. But after that they twirled often together, and every time he did it, it was less about Mellisson and more about Morganna, until he hardly recalled that Mellisson ever twirled at all. Since that realization, he'd stopped twirling.  
  
But just as much as she looked like Mellisson, her coloring was all thanks to him. He'd always been pale, a byproduct of inbreeding and lack of sun in his youth. His black hair was considered desirable in most wizarding circles, and the added effect of some hidden blues made it all the more enticing. That was the hair she'd inherited, though for a while she'd used some muggle product to bring out more of the blue. Now she was back to that natural color, and he had to close his eyes at their resemblance.  
  
She'd come back before his thoughts could become anymore melancholy, asking if the sorting hurt, one more time. He smiled at her, kissing the top of her head, telling her for the tenth time that the sorting didn't hurt and that she'd make friends just fine. But she was nervous, and he understood, knew what it was like to have few friends in a strange place, knew more what it was like to have the type of friends no one else wanted.  
  
They'd gone up the back steps, hearing the calling of children down in the hallways towards the great hall. She'd taken his hand when informed she was going to meet her teachers and he could sense her apprehension as if it were his own. He wanted to take her into his arms and hold her for the lifetime of moments he'd missed. But he didn't, he couldn't, such things were not allowed.  
  
But neither was the first thing he saw upon opening the Headmaster's door. Milk chocolate eyes, in the face of a woman who was no longer a child. They had spellbound him, the look of both startlement and a deep smoldering. She'd been thinking about him, that much he could easily tell, and that thought had threatened to undo the days worth of self depreciating thought's he'd forced himself to remember concerning pursuing a student-- this student. This delicate and yet strong, stubborn and yet kind, intelligent and yet neive, student named Hermione Granger.  
  
Sitting as she was, eyes locked with his, he could see the years the time turner had added to her. She held herself with more grace than the other children and conducted herself with the air of someone who knew a bit too much but could back it up. Then there was the thing behind it all, the pain she'd been through in her short life, the struggles she'd endured by being a child in these times, of being friends with Harry Potter. She was stronger for them, but that strength had stripped her of some portion of her innocence, and with that shedding was emerging a woman Severus had found himself completely entranced with.  
  
Then it had changed, the grown up face from before had shifted from his, and he suddenly realized she was talking to Morganna. The nature of their conversation had hit home about the time both girls started screaming and jumping up and down.  
  
He couldn't have answered if asked how the sight had effected him. Suddenly Hermione didn't look so old, more like her age--not the fifteen year old girl everyone thought her to be, she was too dignified for that-- but the seventeen year old, a girl at the ready to step over the threshold, and yet still clinging to the things of her past. Morganna seemed happy though, if that wasn't a complete understatement. His own apprehensions at bringing her to Hogwarts disappeared as she pulled Hermione to the couch to talk about the Quidditch player.  
  
It didn't register in him for a long moment, that his daughter, and his object of lust, were friends, good friends if their actions were to be judged. Suddenly the room didn't have enough oxygen. He was lusting after his daughter's friend! Merlin's beard!  
  
But his thoughts had been cut off then when Morganna had turned to him only to be stopped by the sight of Harry Potter. He, along with the rest of the room, had gone deathly quiet. This was the test, the true test, to determine how the rest of his life would play out. If Morganna took to Harry immediately, they'd have to go into hiding right away. He'd have to take them both from Hogwarts, from England, as far away as possible, as remote as possible; to find a way to train Harry in the use of the weapon he possessed. On the other hand, if that didn't happen, if she'd merely been taken aback by Harry's presents, they could both stay, and he'd spend the next few years waiting for them to somehow trigger the weapon.  
  
In the end, it hadn't been anything like he'd expected. Father's were supposed to know these things, weren't they? Wasn't he supposed to know she had an obvious crush on the boy who lived? Shouldn't he of at least had an idea? But he hadn't, and he'd watched dumb faced like everyone else, as Morganna made a fool of herself before making one of Harry, as the boy drooled all over his daughter. He knew he should be mad, that the very idea of a boy liking his innocent little girl should have boiled his blood. But he'd prepared himself for Harry since Mellisson had told him about the Fate's prophecy, and he'd become resigned to the fact they were destined to be together. He didn't dare allow himself to think that James's son might actually be a good match for Morganna, that was just too much for him.  
  
But Morganna had settled down again, and though she continued to make eyes at Harry, things seemed to be less volatile. So now they knew, it was to be a long process waiting for the weapon to awaken. But Severus thought that better. It gave him more time to figure out how to tell Morganna the things she needed to know. He'd told himself long ago that when the weapon was awakened he'd tell Morganna everything, who she really was, who he was, and who her mother had been. He'd tell her all and take the pain and hatred he was sure would come. He'd bare it like he had everything else in this lifetime of painful disappointments.  
  
He remembered the exact look on Hermione's face when Morganna had introduced them. Horror could not fully express it; more like the idea that he could be anyone's uncle perhaps was closer. He'd watched her face as she desperately tried to come up with a way to tell her friend that she liked him, while warring with that beautiful conscious of hers. In the end Morganna had seen through her lies, and he'd been presented with a distraught daughter--not a thing he had much experience with.  
  
So he'd over compensated, fathers did that all the time, didn't they? He was sure that no father in the known universe could stand to see his daughter cry, and even though he was supposedly only her uncle, he was in truth still her father. So he'd made a promise that would destroy his reputation as the castle's most hated teacher, it was a small price to pay to make this transition a little easier for Morganna. However he'd been had, as her nowhere close to tears smiling face had emerged from behind her hands. Well, he was sure he wasn't the first father to be tricked by his loving female offspring; however, he wasn't going to be quite as nice as she thought--after all, he'd been horrible before, trying to be better would still make him a jerk.  
  
He'd balked with the rest of them when she'd found out about Remus, but a small part of him had been glowing with pride. By being away from him, she'd escaped much of his inbred prejudices. She was more accepting and forgiving than he was, and it pleased him to know she could so readily accept those different from her.  
  
Things had broken up about then, and he'd watched Morganna leave on the arm of Harry, still trying too hard to get him to fall instantly at her feet. He didn't think she realized that Potter was already prepared to buy her dragon's tears if she wanted them.  
  
But that's when his attention had been arrested again by Hermione. She'd struggled a bit with Morganna's American attitude towards all things English, but she'd done it with the same kind of class as she did everything else. Her comment walking out the door couldn't have been more true, but he'd hardly heard it as he watched her leave.  
  
Her bushy hair had been clipped half back and swayed slightly on the breeze created by the gentle sway of her hips. He didn't think she did it consciously, a mere change in body center that came with the adoption of all things woman. It was a gentle but hypnotic movement, and he found himself captivated by it long after the door closed behind her. She was like a drug to the addicted and he was the addict. There was something so dangerously tempting about her, so demanding that he couldn't force his inner eyes from her memory.  
  
In her world he'd be considered a pervert, in his, a man choosing a bit young but not obscenely so. But she was in his world now, had adopted it the moment her letter had arrived by owl the summer before her first year. She was a part of his world, but an innocent in it, one who didn't know all the rules, and he wanted her, like air and something so much more divine than ambrosia.  
  
He could love her the way she deserved to be loved, challenge her the way anyone that understood her knew she wanted. He'd be bold and difficult until she lashed out at him in frustration, only to seduce her on the rebound and make her feel more precious and loved then any creature ever given life. She'd bend to him and he to her, and they'd meet somewhere in the middle where bonds of life are made. He could be everything she needed, as she already was to him.  
  
"Severus, I don't think you heard me when I said subtle." Came a chuckling voice that interrupted his thoughts.  
  
Startled, Severus turned to look at his mentor. The old man's eyes were filled with mirth and a knowing look Severus had seen twenty years ago when they'd been discussing a certain Ravenclaw beauty.  
  
He balked at his obviousness. "Dear God, I am sick."  
  
Dumbledore only chuckled. "No, no, Severus, I think only your confession to me made it obvious tonight. Though I do suggest that you use your eyes rather than your head to follow Miss Granger from now on. It might become obvious to a few more people otherwise." The kindness in Dumbledore's eyes was overshadowed by the self-loathing Severus still felt.  
  
"I'm a fool, Albus. How could I ever hope to juggle so many things at once? And now I find out that Morganna and Granger are friends! How foolish could I be?!" He leaned his head against his palm, covering his eyes as he tried to sort out his thoughts in the cover of internal blackness.  
  
But Dumbledore only chuckled again. "You're no more a fool than the rest of us poor men captivated by a likely match. I did detect a certain fascination Miss Granger had in you as well, Severus, so any doubt I had about this being a one way infatuation seems unfounded now. Though, I would still suggest you tread slowly and carefully. You were right in thinking that she's from a different world with different rules, but just as you thought, she is in our world now, and subject to our rules. If she's willing."  
  
Severus lifted his head, glaring at his mentor. "You did it again didn't you? I've asked you to stop reading my mind, again and again, it's disconcerting."  
  
This time Dumbledore laughed outright as he stood to exit the office. "My dear boy, I hardly needed to read your mind to see the conflicts arise and be rebuked in your eyes. Mellisson was quite right all those years ago, you are easier to read than a book if only one looks into your eyes." He smiled, clasping Severus about the shoulders and propelling him out the door. "Besides, I decided to stop reading your mind when it came to women long ago, Severus. Some of your thoughts can make even an old man like me blush."  
  
Severus refrained from commenting.  
  
* * *  
  
In the Main Hall, Severus and Dumbledore entered only moments before Professor McGonnagall herded in an assortment of first years. Unlike most years, this group looked a little more robust than usual, many smiling and looking around in anticipation. However, over in the corner, hidden slightly from view behind Hagrid's enormous frame, stood Morganna, watching the proceedings with eagle vision. Severus looked towards the Gryffindor table, and saw Harry and Hermione talking quickly to the Weasley assortment of brothers and sister. He saw Harry point back towards the corner Morganna stood in, and watched slightly amused, as the twins pulled quills and parchment from out of nowhere.  
  
The sorting commenced without further delay, and it was with pride that he welcomed eleven new Slytherins to his house. Gryffindor had ended with nine, Hufflepuff with fourteen, and Ravenclaw with six; it was a rather good turnout this year.  
  
But with the first year sorting finished, Dumbledore stood and addressed the school. "This year, Hogwarts is most pleased to announce the arrival of a new student to the fifth year class. Many of you may already know her, but to those that do not, I would like to introduce Morganna Michaels, whom most of you know as the singer Mellisson." A flurry of whispers ran through the crowd of students at the news, which only escalated into full out shouts when Morganna nervously approached the stool. He watched her smile shyly and wave to the crowd before sitting carefully, her hands clasped firmly before her.  
  
Dumbledore continued. "Miss Michaels is here on an exchange program from The United States, and I expect each and every one of you to offer her your support as she adjusts to Hogwarts." When the headmaster took a pause to gain a breath however, a very strange thing happened, the crowd of students began to chant. It started out low, somewhere from the Hufflepuff table and quickly spread through the Slytherin, Gryffindor and Ravenclaw tables as well. Soon the whole room was chanting the same thing over and over, while some students even dared to stand up, banging their fists on the tabletops.  
  
"SONG! SONG! SONG! SONG! SONG! SONG!"  
  
The sound continued to grow as the heads of house stood, trying in vain to quiet the quickly rioting crowd of students. He glared deathly at the Slytherins, trying in vain to shout over the ruckus, to no avail.  
  
Suddenly, Dumbledore raised his hand, and the room quieted. "Well, it seems the student body has spoken." The crowd cheered in a roar of sound that shook the candles floating above. Dumbledore turned to a smiling but stunned Morganna. "My dear, it seems that you have quite a following at Hogwarts." The crowd cheered louder as Morganna giggled. "Perhaps, if you wouldn't mind, a song." He turned back to the crowd. "I do believe that if Miss Michaels consents, I'll waver my usual rendition of the school song." The throng of students cheered louder than ever this time, and even a few professors joined in.  
  
From her spot on the stool, Morganna looked completely nervous for a full second before she drew a deep breath, squared her shoulders, threw on a smile, and began unbuttoning her long robe. The deafening sound was more than Severus thought he could stand.  
  
Minerva moved the sorting hat and stool into a corner of the platform while Morganna draped her robe over the table closest to Hagrid. Her school uniform of black skirt and white blouse seemed extremely overdressed for an impromptu concert, but none of the students seemed to notice as the cheering organized into the calling of her name.  
  
"MELLISSON! MELLISSON! MELLISSON! MELLISSON! MELLISSON!"  
  
For a moment Morganna stood completely still, soaking up the attention around her as only a star performer could. Her confidence grew under the maelstrom of praise, and she smiled broadly before waving her hand to the crowd.  
  
He realized she must have cast Sonorus on herself while disrobing because her voice came out so loudly it completely drowned out the chanting.  
  
"Thank you so much for the welcome! I didn't really expect to sing anything tonight, so forgive me if I'm not quite prepared." The crowd called louder, as Morganna giggled. "Well, I guess since I'm in England I'll sing something from my American album, that way you'll all send overseas to get it." She laughed, a sweet sound that seemed to endear her to the crowd before her. "Ok, this song is called 'Hella Good' from my American album Magical Waters. It's a little more techno than my other songs, but it's got a tight beat so you can totally get your freak on!"  
  
Severus didn't understand a word she'd just said, but the students seemed to understand, and as Albus waved his wand and music started playing around the room, another loud roar ran through the inhabitants of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.  
  
He knew the minute she started to move he was going to hate the song. In a gyrating motion that could only be considered vertical sex with clothes on, Morganna began to work the stage as the sound of her voice echoed amazingly around the Main Hall.  
  
"The waves keep on crashing on me for some reason, But your love keeps on coming like a thunderbolt Come here a little closer 'Cause I wanna see you, baby, real close up (Get over here)  
  
You've got me feeling hella good So let's just keep on dancing You hold me like you should So I'm gonna keep on dancing  
  
Your performance deserving a standing ovation And who would have thought it'd be the two of us So don't wake me if I'm dreaming 'Cause I'm in the mood come on and give it up  
  
You've got me feeling hella good So let's just keep on dancing You hold me like you should So I'm gonna keep on dancing You've got me feeling hella good  
  
So let's just keep on dancing  
  
You hold me like you should  
  
So I'm gonna keep on dancing  
  
Ooh yeah yeah  
  
Ooh yeah yeah  
  
You've got me feeling hella good  
  
So let's just keep on dancing  
  
You hold me like you should  
  
So I'm gonna keep on dancing  
  
You've got me feeling hella good  
  
So let's just keep on dancing  
  
You hold me like you should  
  
So I'm gonna keep on dancing  
  
Keep on dancing  
  
Keep on dancing"  
  
As the song finished, a thunderous applause filled the room, and Morganna, who'd somehow managed to dance her way onto the Gryffindor table, was being helped down by a combination of Harry and thirty other boys. She waved to them all, soaking up the attention as she made her way back to the head table.  
  
She smiled at him as she approached and he offered her a look she'd easily understand as, "I'm not happy about how you just conducted yourself." Morganna had the gall to stick her tongue out at him.  
  
Mounting the steps, she continued to wave at the crowd as she collected her robes from Hagrid, who hugged her tightly--much to the envy of every male in the room. With robes in place, Morganna moved back to the center of the stage where McGonnagall had replaced the stool and sorting hat.  
  
Against the backdrop of a still approaching Morganna, Dumbledore addressed the students once again. "I must admit, that was a far more entertaining performance than the one I would have given." The room erupted in claps, whistles and even a few catcalls. Dumbledore waved the sound down. "Now then, I do believe we have one more student to sort." He turned to nod once to Minerva.  
  
As Minerva gathered the hat from its place two feet from Morganna, he saw his daughter look towards Hermione and cross her fingers highly in the air in a sign of hope. She needn't have bothered.  
  
The sorting hat had barely been lifted from its perch and moved towards Morganna before it screamed in its high pitched voice.  
  
"GRYFFENDOR!!!!!!!!!!"  
  
The red and gold table erupted into applause so loud, Severus wondered if they hadn't been the soul proprietors of all the previous ruckus.  
  
Morganna squealed, jumping up out of her seat and hugging Minerva tightly around the neck--much to the surprise of the transfigurations professor. She spared her uncle one beaming smile before tearing down the stairs and up the table divide. Hermione stood to receive her, and together the two girls hugged and squealed a bit more before claiming seats.  
  
So Morganna had not been placed in Slytherin. A part of him was disappointed he wouldn't have her in his house, but another much more practical one was grateful she'd be away from some of the more likely Voldemort supporters. In the end he was just happy she was happy, and if her wide grins at Hermione and her fluttering eyelashes at Harry were any indication, she was most definitely happy.  
  
Sighing to himself, Severus turned his attention back towards Dumbledore, completely missing the beginnings of the first student riot ever to happen at Hogwarts. 


	6. Chapter 5

Chapter 5  
  
Hermione couldn't remember being much happier than she was the moment the sorting hat called out her house name. She cheered wildly, abandoning the stuffy English persona Morganna always said she had, as she stood, enveloping her friend as she came tearing down the divide.  
  
This was happiness. To finally not be the only girl, to know somehow that their group of three was about to be expanded to four made her heart flutter with joy. There were just some things that a girl couldn't tell a boy, some things that could only be shared between women. It didn't seem real, as if she'd wake up from some great dream only to realize it would only be her this year, another year against Ron's over-protectiveness and Harry's easy going maleness.  
  
As they sat down, Morganna hugged her again, and Hermione hugged back, praying to whoever would listening that this wonderful feeling of camaraderie never go away. She'd been through more than her fair share with Harry and Ron, and Hermione was definitely looking forward to a little more normal girly interactions.  
  
But as the events of the evening progressed, Hermione thought she should have known better than to ask for a miracle.  
  
At first things went well. Morganna waved to Harry, once again flirting obscenely with him. "Harry, isn't it exciting! Now we're in the same house too! I'm so excited!" And she leaned over to squeeze his hand. Harry for his part, looked like a blushing fish out of water as he nodded wordlessly.  
  
Knowing Harry was too muddied to remember edict, Hermione turned to Morganna and introduced her. "Morganna, this is Ron, he's Harry and my best friend. That's Ron's sister Ginny, she's a year younger than us- that's fourth year to you. And these are Ron's twin brother, George and Fred, don't worry if you get them mixed up, they like it better that way." She would have continued, but at that moment, George thrust a quill at Morganna, while Fred nearly threw her a whole ream of parchment.  
  
George's voice was slightly shaky as he spoke, his eyes star struck. "Would-would you give us your autograph, Miss?"  
  
Morganna giggled, turning to Hermione before offering a smile. "Sure. It's George, right?"  
  
George nodded, that is until Fred hit him in the arm with his fist. "Oh, and would you make one out to Fred too?"  
  
Morganna nodded, signing her name to the piece of parchment along with the sentence, "Very nice to meet you, George. Mellisson." She did the same for Fred, before handing them back the parchment and quill. "I signed Mellisson, but just call me Morganna, ok?"  
  
The twins nodded together, insanely loopy grins on their faces.  
  
Oh, but if only it had stopped there.  
  
Suddenly Dean Thomas was thrusting one of the cloth napkins towards Morganna. "Can I have your autograph too? It's Dean, Dean Thomas."  
  
Morganna looked quizzically at the napkin before turning to Hermione. "Am I supposed to sign the dinner wear?"  
  
Harry tried to save her. "Dean, she's in our house, you an ask her when we get back to the common room. You know, when you've actually got something to write with." For indeed, Dean had forgotten to hand Morganna a quill.  
  
"I've got parchment!" Another roll of parchment was nearly hurled at Morganna and Hermione from the lower reaches of the table. Aghast, Hermione turned to see Collin Creve waving wildly, in his hand a sharpened quill aimed for them both.  
  
Hermione called for him to stop, but the boy either didn't hear, or didn't want to listen. The quill went sailing through the air and managed to hit Ron right on the head. Normally Ron would have been more than a little angry, but it seemed Ron had caught a hold of Mellisson fever as well, because he only pulled the quill from his hair before grabbing George's parchment roll and thrusting them both at Morganna.  
  
"I'm your biggest fan! Just make it out to Ron, and would you write, 'Love Mellisson' on mine?"  
  
Hermione could only roll her eyes as Morganna giggled nervously.  
  
"She's not writing "love" on there you git! What do you think she is, your girlfriend?" This from Fred who looked suddenly envious as Morganna raised the quill. "If he gets 'love' I want a new one."  
  
And that was it. Suddenly, Griffendors from the very ends of the tables were calling out to Morganna. Some wanted 'love' others wanted 'best friend' while still others wanted her to kiss the paper when she'd finished.  
  
But it didn't stop there. Right over the top of Headmaster Dumbledore's introductory speech about the forbidden forest, students from Hufflepuff started shouting to get Morganna's attention, and when she couldn't locate them in the crowd, they started throwing up Sparkler charms- right in the middle of the main hall.  
  
That wasn't the worst though. Hermione had to question the intelligence of the Ravenclaws as a group of boys from that table sent a full ream of parchment right over everyone's head to slam into Harry's chest. On the outside was a listing of the boy's names and what they wanted Morganna to write.  
  
After that, things got ugly pretty quickly. Not to be outdone by anyone, and unmindful of the rules to begin with, a group of Slytherin seventh years braved Snape's wrath and walked right over to Morganna, tapping her on the shoulder and presenting a slip of parchment.  
  
From there it was chaos. Not to be outdone, members from every table raced up to Morganna to get her attention. When those few got up, so did the rest of the tables, and before Hermione could blink, all of the Hogwarts student body was up from their seats and crushing in around she and Morganna, begging the raven haired girl to sign her name to anything from parchment to even Trevor, Nevills toad.  
  
From the staff table, heads of house tried in vain to control the throngs of students, but to no avail. Threats went unheeded, and some students even had the gall to shout back. Dumbledore looked quite perplexed, as if he couldn't figure out how things had suddenly gotten so out of hand.  
  
Boys and girls pushed in against the girls, forcing them into the table, and in Hermione's case, her arms to knock over all of her flatware. She called to Morganna over the riot of students, but her friend seemed to be able to do little more than cry out in pain as the crowd crushed her.  
  
Someone managed to slam their elbow into Hermione's head so that her cheek fell down and onto her dinner plate. From this angle, she could see Professor Snape, his eyes flashing in a color that was visible even from this distance. It was a look of complete and total rage, and also one of abject fear and horror.  
  
But Hermione didn't have time to ponder that look. Suddenly, Harry cast a Bump charm, which forcefully pushed the crowed away as if they'd been bumped by a pillow-covered truck. She looked up to see him on top of the table, his hands reaching down to pull Morganna from her seat on the bench, onto the table top as well. Hermione turned then, as Ron grabbed her about the upper arms and hoisted her onto the table as well.  
  
Later, Hermione would smile at the boys protectiveness. Harry and Ron pushed she and Morganna between them, their wands out at the ready to cast every defense charm they'd been forced to learn while getting Harry ready for the Triwizard Tournament last year. Still a little disorientated from the blow she'd received to her head, Hermione wobbled on her legs, feeling the world spinning on its axis even as she grabbed for her wand.  
  
She saw that Morganna too had her wand out, but instead of preparing for a defense charm, she quickly raised the tip to her throat and cast Sonarus.  
  
"THAT'S ENOUGH!!!!" The crowd stalled, looking at the pop star surrounded by two wizards at the ready and one witch that looked slightly worse for wear.  
  
And then Morganna did a very dumb thing. Pointing both arms out in front of her, she called loudly. "PLEASE FORM A SINGLE FILE LINE IF YOU WANT ME TO SIGN ANYTHING, AND NO I WILL NOT SIGH ANYONE'S CHEST!!!"  
  
A sudden crackle of lightning and the boom of thunder shook the whole room in the stillness after Morganna's announcement. The student's turned their eyes towards the main table to see Professor Dumbledore holding his wand over his head, his look not happy at all.  
  
"Back to your seats! Everyone!" There was a very marked amount of anger, in Dumbledore's voice, and as the power crackled around him, the student's raced towards their respected tables, slamming into seats as fast as they could.  
  
As the crowd around the Gryfendore table thinned, Morganna uncast Sonarus and turned to Hermione. "Are you alright? You don't look so good."  
  
She heard Harry and Ron ask after her, felt Ron's hand rub comfortingly across her back. But the gentle pressure he used on her back pushed her body gently, and with just that tiny movement of her head, the main hall began to swirl in tight dizzying circles.  
  
She heard Morganna call her name, but was unable to answer. Grabbing her head, Hermione tried closing her eyes, but that only titled her inner world more. She was getting sick to her stomach from all the spinning, and when she opened her eyes to look at Harry who'd called her name, she had to close them immediately to keep from being sick.  
  
Which is how she lost her balance in the dizzying world of her darkened sight, and felt her legs buckle as she fell backwards over the table.  
  
Morganna screamed her name, and Hermione felt Ron grab a hold of her robes only to lose his grip from her momentum.  
  
She didn't consciously prepare herself for the fall, but invariably her muscles tightened up as the mental note that she was about to hit the stone cold floor of the main hall passed through her mind.  
  
Suddenly, strong arms caught her in mid fall, pulling her body close to a hard male chest. Arms were quickly wrapped about her shoulders and under her legs and the male shifted her more comfortably in his grip. The fall had scared her, and without thinking of the consequences, Hermione wrapped her arms about the male's neck and moaned as the world danced at her head movement.  
  
She never heard the gasp from her fellow Gryffendor's, and later she didn't really care. She'd been saved from a very nasty fall, and whoever it had been was getting a definite kiss in thanks.  
  
Opening her eyes slowly, her head resting on his shoulder, Hermione looked up into the face of her rescuer and balked as Snape's face came into focus. Startled, she reeled back from him, only to feel the world twirl yet again so that she moaned once more and closed her eyes, burying her head against his shoulder, her eyes against his neck.  
  
She thought she felt him stiffen, but she didn't know for sure.  
  
"Hermione!" In a thunder of pounding feet, Morganna, Harry and Ron were there, touching her shoulders and asking if she was alright.  
  
"Morganna?" This from Snape, who tightened his hold around Hermione when Harry accidentally hit her legs and caused her to moan.  
  
"I'm fine, Uncle Severus; but is Hermione? Hermione can you hear me?"  
  
"Severus, is she alright?" Hermione recognized Professor McGonnagell's voice from a few paces behind Snape.  
  
"I'm sure Miss Granger is fine, Minerva. She was barely tapped." But something was off in Snape's voice, as if he wasn't quite convinced of the things he said. Never the less, he tried to prove his point through action. With a smooth decent, he lowered Hermione's feet to the ground before letting go of her legs, his arm still wrapped about her shoulders. When she seemed to have her balance, he turned his head to McGonnagell. "You see, she's-"  
  
At just that moment, Snape dropped his arm from Hermione's shoulders, and in a tidal wave motion the faces of her friends rushed at her before receding in rocking, spinning motions that had Hermione grabbing back onto Snape's neck as her knees buckled.  
  
"Hermione!"  
  
Had Snape just said her name?  
  
In a pull, Snape picked her back up, cradling her to his chest in what Hermione thought was the most gentle act she'd ever seen him perform, let alone towards her.  
  
She felt cool fingers touch the bump at her temple before she cried out, pulling away from that hand only to moan again as nausea slammed into her throat. Madam Pomphrey's voice was stern but kind.  
  
"Take her to the medical wing, Severus. She's got herself a nasty bump that's most likely given her a concussion." She didn't hear him say a word, but the next thing Hermione knew, the wind was whipping past her as Snape carried her to the medical wing. Absently she heard Madam Pomphery give one more command. "Miss Michaels, come with us. You two boys sit down for the rest of the feast."  
  
Hermione heard feet run to catch up, and the next thing she knew Morganna was by her side, gently touching her arm to let her know she was there. She tried to look up, to reassure her friend, but that just made her head move which spun the world until she just closed her eyes, and pressed harder against Snape's shoulder. Absently, she wondered at the scent of him. She'd always thought he'd smell like something rotting, but instead it was like the day at her house--he smelled like warm leather and a hint of some cool black herbs. How she could smell black she didn't know, but that was the way he smelled.  
  
"Hermione, I'm so sorry! That happens to me all the time--well, actually, usually I've got lots and lots of bodyguards. Oh, but Hermione! Wasn't Harry amazing?! Did you see how he rescued me?! I can't believe I just got rescued by Harry Potter!"  
  
Suddenly, the forward momentum of Snape's feet haulted, jarring Hermione back into his shoulder so that she moaned and strengthened her hold about his neck. She just wanted to get to a very flat surface before she ended up worshiping the privy for the rest of her first night back.  
  
"Morganna," Snape's tone was hard, with just a trace of remaining worry in it. Hermione didn't care, all she wanted was to be put down somewhere quiet so she could moan. "What in the world were you thinking?! Miss Granger is obviously in need of medical attention, and you request the students to form a line?! Explain your actions!"  
  
Oh great, Hermione thought, she'd landed herself smack dab in a family dispute--one with Snape--that couldn't possibly be good.  
  
"It's called crowd control, Uncle Severus. If I hadn't tried to at least get them in some semblance of order they might have mobbed the table like they did when I was in Houston! Besides, I didn't know Hermione was hurt." Then she must have turned to Hermione, though the blond didn't see it. "I really didn't know you'd been hurt so bad Hermione, I swear. If I'd known I would have--well, I would have done something." Hermione could mentally see Morganna throwing her hands into the air. "Or Harry would have; he was so good with that crowd. Almost like a knight in shining armor!"  
  
This time Hermione did groan, but it was covered by the sound of Snape's snort. "I am sure, Morganna, that Mr. Potter's actions were being entirely ruled by his head!" And then they were moving again, and Hermione wanted to half cry with relief and have scream from the still swirling darkness.  
  
"I'm really sorry, Uncle Severus. I mean, all those kids just came out of nowhere! It was worse than the LA Riots! Trust me, I saw the footage in muggle studies. I mean, even the gang members dressed better than some of the kids here!"  
  
Suddenly, Snape came to a halt again, and Hermione closed her eyes tightly and drew in a deep breath as her head bumped against his shoulder again. "I am well aware of what you are referring too, but there is absolutely no comparison! Think girl! Calling for them to form a straight line?!"  
  
"Well it worked in, Chicago!"  
  
"This is not Chicago! This is Hogwarts, a school! Not some music store or disco!"  
  
"EW!!! I would so never, perform in a disco! What kind of music do you think I sing anyway?"  
  
"Morganna--"  
  
"STOP!!!" Moaning over the movement of her own jaw, Hermione carefully pulled her head back and turned to Morganna. "That was stupid, Morganna. Professor Snape--your uncle's right--Headmaster Dumbledore was giving his speech and we should have been listening." At Morganna's resigned and crestfallen face, Hermione turned back to Snape and glared. "First, haven't you ever heard of waiting to yell until after a girl's friends aren't there? It's embarrassing to be yelled at in front of your friends. Second, every time you stop the world spins like a sneekascope, so if you're going to yell will you please just put me down somewhere so I can die in peace!?"  
  
By the look in his eyes, she knew, she was in for a lot of trouble, but at that exact moment, when Snape opened his mouth to deliver holy hell upon Hermione's still swimming head, Madam Pomphrey made her appearance.  
  
"Oh, good gracious! Severus, what are you doing, holding tea in the hallway?" She moved her hands in a hustling motion. "Get her inside, Severus, get in inside." Then she turned to Morganna. "Miss Michaels, if you'll assist me, I'll need a hand with some ingredients." Then back to Snape. "Severus, put her on one of the beds and stay with her. And for the love of Merlin, don't let her fall asleep!"  
  
Then with an arm on Morganna's elbow, Madam Pomphrey steered the still stunned Morganna through the hospital wing doors.  
  
That left Hermione with a very, very angry Professor Snape.  
  
Closing her eyes, Hermione ducked her head back against his neck and moaned. At the stiffening of his spine, she knew she was in for a lot of trouble.  
  
Without another word, Snape carried her through the doors and set her--a little roughly, Hermione thought--on one of the beds in the middle of the long room. A loud scrapping sound heralded the arrival of a chair, and into sat Snape, his black eyes boring into Hermione's the moment she opened her eyes.  
  
Oh, she was so dead.  
  
"Miss--"  
  
"I'm sorry." That seemed to catch him off guard, and Hermione rushed on before he could get a word in edgewise. "I shouldn't have said anything, but my head hurt and you kept stopping. And if Morganna said one more stupid thing, I was going to have to curse her and she's your niece so that would have just gotten me a whole lot more detention than I've already got, so.I'm sorry."  
  
For a moment she just examined the comfortable down comforter she was resting on. She'd found it oddly comforting that even in the hospital wing, the beds were extremely comfortable and warm. But that was just a passing thought, and the longer the silence continued, the more anxious she got to find out exactly how bad the situation really was.  
  
Resigned to meet her fate head on, Hermione lifted her eyes to Snape's and froze solid. The bastard was smiling!  
  
Her mouth must have opened like a fish, because Snape quickly tried to cover his look, effectively turning the smile into a sneer, but she'd seen it for what it was. She also understood the true meaning of his next words. "The next time I require parenting lessons, Miss Granger, I'll be sure to come to you, until then, you'd do well to mind your tongue!" His tone was sharp and though Hermione nodded obediently, she knew it was lacking in its normal ferociousness. "Further," he added, "my relationship to Miss Michaels should not be a deterrent for you in any future way."  
  
Had he just given Hermione permission to curse Morganna when she got stupid?! Looking into his eyes, Hermione knew he had. She dropped her eyes to keep from smiling.  
  
"You also have another weeks detention."  
  
Damnit!!!  
  
"I believe," he sneered, and this time she knew he meant the cruelly, "that that makes it three weeks. Does my math seem up to task, Miss Granger?" She nodded. "Good, now open your eyes, and don't you dare fall asleep or I'll make it four."  
  
Ooooooohhhhhh, she really, really, really didn't like him!!!  
  
* * *  
  
Later that night, much later than Hermione wanted to consider, the lump on her head had been sizably reduced and she was pronounced well enough to go back to Griffendor Tower. Morganna accompanied her, and together they made their way slowly down the now darkened halls.  
  
Professor Snape had stayed in the infirmary long enough to make Hermione nervous, before he'd received a kiss goodnight from Morganna--a slightly unnerving sight--and returned to the dungeons for the Slytherin common room.  
  
Hermione wasn't exactly sure how she felt about Snape. She'd learned an awful lot about him today. As she walked down the corridor, half listening to Morganna go on and on about how wonderful Harry was, Hermione couldn't stop wondering about some of the expressions she'd seen on his face. It was almost as if.as if.he were human?  
  
When they got to the portrait of the Fat Lady, Hermione offered the good woman the password, which Madam Pomphrey had given her before they'd left. With one large step over the threshold, the two girls were in the common room--and immediately mobbed by the whole of Gryiffendo.  
  
"Morganna! Can I have your autograph?"  
  
"Morganna, Morganna! Let's be best friends!"  
  
"Morganna, sing us another song!"  
  
Unconsciously, Hermione brough her hands to her ears to block out the sound and to protect her head from further injury. She'd walked back to the tower, that was true, but that didn't mean she was as good as new.  
  
A sudden blast of power came from the back of the room by the fireplace, and Hermione saw Ron and Harry--wands drawn, and pointed at the crowd.  
  
"Alright, you lot, stand back and let'm through." This from Ron, and Hermione couldn't help but smile warmly at her dear friend. Morganna grabbed her hand, and together they walked through the crowd of students towards the girl's dormitory.  
  
Up the winding staircase, the four of them went, Ron and Harry trailing behind them, Ron obviously waiting to catch Hermione if she decided to see if falling from heights was as fun the second time as the first.  
  
At the 5th year door, Hermione set her hand on the handle before quickly pulling away. "I just remembered, as a prefect, I get my own room. It must be down the hallway a little more. Let's go see."  
  
She saw what she thought might be jealousy in Morganna's eyes, but it quickly vanished behind a smile. "I hope my roommates are nice. I haven't had to live with anyone since I was thirteen. You lived with them last year, Hermione, didn't you?"  
  
Nodding, Hermione and the others continued down the hallway. "Pavari and Lavender are nice enough. Don't sit on Pavarti's bed, she gets really annoyed with wrinkled; and don't touch any of Lavender's clothes, even if they're on your bed, she's always thinking that someone's taking her clothes." Morganna nodded as the quartet walked down the hallway.  
  
She was lucky, a bright gold shield--the same design as her prefect badge-- was on the only door up the short flight of stairs at the back of the hallway--and engraved in magic was her name. The door stuck a little, but opened without a squeak, and Hermione couldn't help but thank the elves that kept the old castle up and running.  
  
But the room was pitch black inside, and she suddenly realized that the only light coming into the room was through a skylight high at the very top of her ceiling. Slightly worried about the ominous room, Hermione closed her eyes and cast Lumos to light the candles. She shouldn't have worried.  
  
The most amazingly spectacular room stood before her. A beautiful bed done in an assortment of wine colors was against the left wall, the four posters reaching high towards the ceiling and draped in burgundy velvet. The floor was furbished in a soft cream colored carpet that looked as if her feet would melt right into it. A desk stood away from the front door, and Hermione noted that the dark wood finish looked stunning against the carpet. Her trunk was at the end of the bed, but across from it stood a massive ameuer in the same color as the desk and bed. Candles danced from a high candelabra that dripped light from the ceiling but left room for the circular skylight that Hermione just knew was designed to allow the maximum amount of both sunlight and moonlight into the room. Sconces designed like twisted ivy in black metal wove about cream candles and in the light seemed to move as if leaves on a breeze.  
  
Morganna was the first to notice the door next to the Ameuer. "Hermione, where does that go?" She shrugged and watched as Morganna went to investigate. Behind her, she heard Ron close the door.  
  
"You doing alright, Hermione? Snape didn't yell at you or anything, did he?" She smiled and shook her head, no sense worrying Ron, he already seemed like he wanted to wrap her in bubble wrap--not that he'd know what bubble wrap was.  
  
She heard Morganna cast Lumos in the other room only an instant before the gasp came, followed, by, "Oh my god, I am so showering in here from now on!"  
  
Intrigued, the other three moved towards the door and then stood opened mouth as they looked into the splendor of Hermione's private bathroom. The floor was done in an exact marble to match the carpet in her bedroom, and around the walls were an assortment of fish frescoed into the wall. In the center of the room was a massive sunken bathtub, only this was done in black and white marble, contrasting beautifully with cream marble and the cream towels Hermione saw stacked to the side of the toilet. She also noted that it had a number of spouts, and remembered from Harry's description, the kind of bubble combinations she'd be enjoying for the rest of the year. Above her was the only window, situated as in her bedroom. To the right back corner of the room she saw a glass enclosed shower, the glass clear and sparkling, revealing a very deep shower stall.  
  
"It's.gorgeous!"  
  
Morganna spun around, smiling widely. "Hermione, your crib is sooooo tight!"  
  
Later, when all of her things were unpacked and set right, Hermione turned back to the bed smiling as she watched Morganna softly petting Crookshanks.  
  
Morganna's voice was soft when she spoke, attesting to the late hour and the wariness that comes from finished excitement. "I was so scared about coming here. Uncle Severus told me Aunt Arabella was getting too old to care for a teenager, especially one with my kind of schedule. I didn't want to go at first, I didn't want to leave my friends and, well, my country, you know. But I'm glad. I'm glad I came, and I'm even gladder that we met. I can't imagine being all alone." She looked up then, a strange sweetness in her face. "Thank you for being my friend, Hermione. I know that sounds lame, but thanks."  
  
Moving to the bed Hermione sat down before scratching Crookshanks under the chin. "You don't have to thank me. I'm just as glad as you are. Harry and Ron are great friends, amazing if you want to know the truth. But.well, there are just some things you can't tell boys."  
  
Morganna giggled. "I know what you mean. Uncle Severus and I are really, really close. Back home I used to call him all the time, everyday when I was on the road. I know he's not everyone's favorite guy here, but he's the best uncle a girl could ask for. Anyway, there's lots of stuff I wouldn't tell anyone but him, and yet there's lots of stuff I wouldn't even consider telling him, you know? I guess it'll just be nice to have a real friend. It was getting hard back home, what with me singing and all these stupid girls thinking that if they got on my good side I'd give them free tickets. You start to figure out who your real friends are; and I just know, I just absolutely know, you and I are going to be best friends, Hermione."  
  
They shared a smile, both understanding each other completely in that moment.  
  
Then Morganna ruined it.  
  
"Besides, you know, The Harry Potter!"  
  
"Morganna."  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"Get out." 


	7. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

It was shaping up to be a very long morning. Already she, Morganna, Harry and Ron had been mobbed four times, once by each house, and it didn't seem as if it were going to let up now that they were sitting down for breakfast.

Next to her, Morganna flirted vivaciously with Harry. "Harry you wouldn't guess the dream I had last night." Morganna exclaimed as she daintily put her fork down and batted her eyelashes. "It was so strange. There I was out in the middle of the Quidditch field--not knowing a single thing about the sport--and I was getting really worried; when who shows up on a racing broom, but you! Well, I was so excited, I couldn't help but hug you in my dream." She giggled and Hermione and Ron nearly gagged on their Eggs Benedict. "I can't wait for you to show me everything there is to know about Quidditch. I'm just so excited!"

The bright pink hue of Harry's cheeks was all Hermione and Ron had to see to know they were now officially out of the conversation all together. With a roll of his eyes, Ron turned to Hermione. "Morganna was talking to Harry this morning, said something about you telling Snape off last night? What's all that about?"

It was Hermione's turn to go pink. She turned away from Ron, pretending to find something at the far end of the table interesting. But she'd ended up looking to her left, and that took her wandering eyes straight to the staff table, and the unmistakable dead lock gaze of Professor Snape.

For a moment they stared at each other, neither looking away or even attempting too. It was as if they were locked onto one another by some sort of bind spell. His eyes were black as midnight, but just then, there was something very strange burning deeply in them; eyes that had seen far too much for one man to sleep well at night.

God, the nightmares he must have. To have been a DeathEater, to have walked the path of pure evil and returned to the side of good, how different he must feel from all those around him. How…lonely.

"Hermione, are you going to answer me, or just stare off into space until first period." Ron hissed, and the sound of his voice threw Hermione back into their conversation. Flustered by her previous thoughts, she stole a glance back at the staff table, but Snape was glancing down at his breakfast while the headmaster laughed over something.

Giving herself a mental shake, Hermione turned to answer Ron. "It wasn't anything. He kept stopping on the way to the med wing, and it was making me sick every time my head hit his shoulder. He and Morganna were having a tiff and I just got tired of the world spinning. I did have a concussion if you'll recall." She gave Ron her patented "you should have figured that out already" look, but it was ruined when Morganna heard her name and added her two cents.

"Ron, Hermione was so totally cool! Uncle Severus was being a total spaz about the whole single file line thing, and Hermione laid into him about yelling at me in front friends. By the way Mione, thanks, that was totally superstar of you." Morganna bubbled, leaning over at the end to give Hermione a tight squeeze. If she hadn't been looking right at him, Hermione would have missed the longing look on Harry's face when she received that mark of affection from the singer.

Boys.

She rolled her eyes for the second time that morning. "Yes, Morganna, it was totally superstar of me, it bought me another weeks worth of detention. I swear, I don't know when I'm going to find time to tutor you, get my own work done, keep Ron and Harry from getting into too much trouble, and do three weeks worth of detention with Snape!" She threw her hands up. "I might as well just become a Slytherin!"

"A plague! A plague on your house for suggesting such a travesty!" Called George from three seats down, as he shook his fork at her menacingly, spilling egg yoke everywhere as he did so.

From next to him, Fred's hand came up and knocked his twin on the back of the head. "You, idiot! We're in her house! And don't go around talking about plagues, remember what happened the last time you quoted Shakespeare like a dolt, we had three feet of water in the house and Ginny had to bunk up with us for a month." Next to Harry, it seems it was Ginny's turn to go pink.

"Whoa!" Cried Ron. "How did you manage to get detention for three weeks? And with Snape? Better yet, since when did you start getting detention at all?"

Harry butted in then. "Yeah Hermione, you said Snape gave you an extra weeks worth of detention, how did you get the other two weeks?"

That was a very simple and logical question, Hermione reasoned, and she was proud of Harry for figuring out the obvious. She also, had no intention of answering that particular question, now or ever.

Standing quickly, she stepped over the bench. "I'd love to tell you Harry, but I promised to show Morganna where all of her classes are for the day." She gave her friend a not so gentle tug to get her out of her seat. "If I have time, I'll tell you between first and second today." Grabbing a hold of Morganna's sleeve and ignoring the girl's perplexed look, Hermione offered her cutest fake smile. "See you both in Defense Against the Dark Arts," before racing from the main hall, dragging Morganna with her.

Half way up the main staircase, Morganna managed to break free. "Ok, that was ubber weird. You wanna explain now, or should I just assume that I did ask you to show me my classes--before class. Really Hermione, what do you think I am, a study freak? What do I care where my classes are? Besides, if I was going to ask someone to show me where my classes were it'd be--hey! Where are you going?" At once, Morganna took off up the stairs to catch up with Hermione who'd failed to stop for Morganna's self-absorbed tantrum.

Over her shoulder, she threw back her explanation. "It's no big deal. I said something stupid and your uncle heard me, he got angry, I got detention, it's actually quite dumb--"

Suddenly Morganna raced in front of Hermione and cut her off, blocking her only escape route from the inevitable look in those icy blue eyes. "Not even going to fly, Mione. What the hell did you say? Uncle Severus is totally cool about almost everything, whatever you managed to say to rile him up must have been something big."

Not wanting to answer the question, Hermione tried to sidestep her, but ended up bouncing off a non-dress-code rhinestone encrusted sleeve cuff. "Uh uh, Hermione, I want the dirt, and I want it now." The evil glint that was starting to become Morganna's trademark flashed suddenly to Hermione's horror. "You either tell me what happened, or I'll bring it up at the most horribly, awful, embarrassing moment and way imaginable, and you know I've got the imagination to do it." She smiled, showing perfectly straight teeth. "So, "miniskirt" story in the middle of the common room, or the dirt. What's it going to be?"

Hermione knew she had two options, the first was to tell Morganna the truth and hope for the best, the second was to lie through her teeth--no one could learn anything more about the miniskirt episode!

She chose to lie.

"If you're that curious about it, I, um, told him that he needed to wash his hair." God, she wished she was a better liar.

Morganna snorted. "Nice try, but I know you, and not even you would do something that American. So what really happened? I promise not to tell anyone, not even Harry and Ron. Well, ok, maybe Harry, if he asked me, because I don't want any secrets between us. Harry seems like the kind of guy that wants an honest and open relationship. You know, someone he can get an honest opinion from."

Hermione pressed her sudden advantage. "You mean, someone like you?" She smiled, knowing she'd managed to distract Echo with his own reflection.

"Hermione!" Morganna playfully slapped her arm. "Of course I mean me. Harry and I are perfect for each other. My life is an open book, and Harry, well, Harry's just perfect. I mean, the way he handled that Lord What's-his-name, and--"

Aghast, Hermione turned. "'Lord What's-his-name?' Morganna, has your head been stuck under a rock for the last twenty years?! Voldemort is not a 'What's-his-name' he's the most dangerous wizard of all time, and you don't even know his name?!"

For a moment, the raven haired girl looked perplexed as she tried to think her way though the accusation. "Wait, I thought you Brits didn't like calling him by his name, scared of it or something. Don't you call him Lord What's-his-name?"

In a move Hermione had never made before in her life, she slapped her hand to her forehead. "Morganna, the correct title is 'You-Know-Who' not 'Lord What's-his-name'! Good lord, don't they teach you anything in America?"

Morganna's retort was cut short as the bells tolled for first class. Frustrated by her inability to respond to such a claim, Morganna spun on her heals. "Whatever Hermione. I'll have you know that in America, we don't care about 'Lord What's-his-name' or whatever else you want to call him. Remember, America, land of the free and home of the brave." She paused at the bottom of the stairs for Hermione to catch up as the other students began to file out of the main hall. "Come to think of it, maybe Harry's American, I mean he is super brave."

For the rest of the five minute walk to the other side of the campus, Hermione smiled sweetly as Morganna once again ran through Harry Potter's amazing feats of grandeur, most of which she and Ron had contributed quite unseeingly too.

At the classroom, Morganna spotted Harry and forced Ron into the next row so that she and Harry could sit together. "Come on Ron, I'm going to need all the help I can get in this class." She turned to Harry and once again batted her eyelashes. "I mean, there are monsters in Defense Against the Dark Arts, aren't there Harry? I'm not so great at wand work, what with all my rehearsals. You wouldn't mind looking out for me, would you?" As Harry sputtered his single-minded devotion to protecting Morganna from the likes of banshees and dementors, Hermione slipped into the seat next to Ron.

As Professor Lupin entered the classroom and readied things at the front, Ron turned to Hermione and whispered. "You know, not that I don't like her or anything, but that girl is awful pushy."

Hermione nodded. "Yeah, but you have to admit, Harry's not discouraging her."

Ron looked in front of them to Morganna who was drawing some ridiculous picture on Harry's parchment while the Boy Who Lived, watched in complete rapture. "Gaw, Hermione, you don't think they're going to be like that all year long, do you?"

Hermione shrugged, "Only if Harry's the stupidest boy on the planet." Suddenly, a terrifying thought crossed her mind, and she moaned before dropping her head onto her folded arms. "Oh Ron, they'll be like this until they're sixty if we wait for Harry to figure things out on his own," came her muffled response.

At the soft patting on her back, Hermione looked up at her dearest friend. "Cheer up Hermione, at the rate they're going I think we only have to wait until Harry's forty or so." Hermione gave another moan, but Ron just smiled. "Fortunately for him, his best friends happen to be rather smart about these things."

Sitting up straight at that, Hermione gave him a withering look. "And just what do you know about having a girl like you?"

Ron blushed then, a bright red that made each and every one of his freckles stand out. "Nothing, never mind."

Hermione's eyes widened. "Ronald Wesley, what aren't you telling me?"

"It's nothing, geesh. Look, Lupin's ready, let's listen." Hermione didn't know what was more startling, the fact that Ron might have some love experience she didn't know about, or the fact that he was avoiding the question by actually focusing on studying.

It was a very, very, very long class, one in which Hermione and Ron both vowed would be spent from now on, in the row in front of Harry and Morganna. All through class they flirted, even earning a stern reprimand from Lupin that washed over Harry like water off a grindylow. That boy was smitten, and it was disgusting to watch.

As the class broke for second period, the four of them met in the hallway along with Ginny.

"Wait, I thought all students in the same grade and house took the same classes together. How come Hermione doesn't have divinations next?" Morganna asked as she leaned back against the stone wall, one foot braced back against it.

Harry chose to answer that simple question. "Hermione's too logical for divinations. She and Professor Trelawney had it out a few years ago and since then, she's been studying Arithmancy instead."

"Yeah," Ron interjected. "We'd let Hermione tell you about Arithmancy, but it'd be next week before she'd finish and I rather like the tea in Divinations."

Morganna wrinkled her nose. "Tea? Don't you people drink coffee? That nice British guy from Buffy the Vampire Slayer drank coffee and he got the girl. Maybe you guys should consider the switch." She smiled, as Ron and Harry looked at each other, both weighing the merits of coffee drinking vs getting the girl. "Anyway," Morganna continued. "Let's get going. I like all that future reading stuff. Tarot cards are so cool."

That know-it-all tone rang crystal clear when Hermione spoke about her most hated subject. "Tarot cards, tea leaf reading, and other such nonsense is just that, nonsense. You can't tell the future, no one can."

"Um, Hermione." Harry interjected. "Maybe that's true, but at least Ron and I are getting good marks in that class, and being as how it's the only one you don't have to tutor us in, maybe we'll just keep going."

She hated it when Harry tried to keep the peace, it usually worked. "Fine, go off to that stupid class. I've got a free period until third. I'll meet you three outside Snape's classroom. I think I'll go visit Hagrid, I haven't had much of a chance to see him yet."

They broke then, Morganna hanging off Harry's spellbound arm, and Ron mocking the both of them while Ginny giggled beside her brother. Hermione watched them go before setting off towards the Forbidden Forest and Hagrid's home.

It was still early September, and the temperature was warm enough that Hermione removed her outer robe. Clad in the uniform of a black skirt and white blouse, she made her way across the sun drenched grass. But as she neared the home, the sounds of oooing and awing first years reminded her that Hagrid was once again teaching Care of Magical Creatures.

Adverse to bothering any learning experience, Hermione turned around and headed back towards the Gryffindor tower; but the sun was too inviting, and her lack of sufficient schoolwork, propelled her instead towards the lake, where she set down her robe and sat on it.

Knowing the bells would awaken her, Hermione hitched up her skirt a bit more than would be considered decent, before rolling up her sleeves and unbuttoning the first four buttons on her shirt. Laying back, she stretched out, letting the sun sooth and warm her as she mentally prepared herself for Morganna and Harry, Ron's love life, and her impending three weeks of Snape detention.

Sighing, she realized it might take a bit more than just the sun to help her weather these storms.

***

She was doing this to torture him.

The room was cold as ice despite the roaring sun on the other side of the stone wall. Heavy shadows hung upon everything as candlelight flickered. Pages in the open books fluttered in the chilly breeze that was always prevalent in the dungeons, and most especially in Professor Severus Snape's class room.

However, Severus didn't notice the cold, indeed he was presently undoing the top button of his robe as his eyes fixated on the small blond sunbathing by the lake.

Nothing about the scene seemed real to him. The sea of green grass folded around her, making her pale perfection stand out beautifully. Her hair seemed cast in gold as the sun reflected off it and the warm breeze sent a few strands dancing on the wind.

__

Hermione's eyes were brown like liquid chocolate.

He'd been startled when she'd caught him staring at her during breakfast, and when their eyes had caught and held, he'd had plenty of time to memorize their color. But he'd had a chance to look at more than just her beautiful eyes. Her nose was perfect, round and cute, with just a slight upturn that most would say defined her demeanor. Her cheekbones were prominent, and when she blushed they lit up lovely, adding more color to the mix. She had plump lips, full and red, perfect for handling every emotion a mouth should partake in, and every action as well.

__

Hermione Granger's body was perfect.

He could see that now. Under the robes of Hogwarts, she was a living sculpture. She was taller than most of the other girls, a fact brought upon by her Time-Turner enhanced growth spurt, but even so, she didn't even come up to his shoulders. She had what most would call birthing hips, wide and round, accentuating her slim waist and near perfect hourglass frame. And her hands, long slim fingers that would one day drip with the gold he'd shower upon her; would one day where the Dragon's Tear Diamond wedding ring tucked safely away in his chest.

__

Mellisson's wedding ring.

Startled, Severus backed away from the window and the image of Hermione relaxing. Without any remorse, he'd just considered using his dead wife's wedding ring to marry another.

Disgust washed over him and with a sharp turn, Severus moved deeper into the cold room and took his seat before the massive spell books.

He tried to concentrate on the Memory enhancing potion he was preparing to teach his third period students--Hermione's class--but his easy way of dismissing Mellisson ripped at his heart. With a sigh he pushed away from the desk and returned to the window.

__

She was beautiful. 

He fancied she was asleep, warm and comfortable. Try as he might, he couldn't help but think someday she might feel that way in his presence; Mellisson had.

Severus closed his eyes. Twenty years ago it had been Mellisson out in that sea of grass. Her long white hair had caught in the wind just as he was coming from the library. He'd never forget the sight as long as he lived. She'd been laughing about something, her smile large and open, full and honest as the wind had tugged at her clothes and hair. He'd been spellbound by her beauty, mesmerized as he stood there, his books and homework forgotten. The moment had seemed to last forever and yet was over in a second, but it was enough. He'd vowed to talk to her, the dark and nearly silent Severus Snape, and he had. Like a fool he'd waked right up to her and offered his name. She'd been startled at first, but had offered her name in return and given him a smile before walking back towards the Ravenclaw Spiral. But the thing that stuck in his mind the most, the one thing that had offered him all the encouragement he'd needed, was that the lovely Mellisson of Ravenclaw had turned at the door and offered him a cocotte smile.

__

He doubted very much if Hermione Granger knew how to offer a smile like that.

He sighed as his eyes opened; it didn't matter, he was smitten anyway. Mellisson had been all soft lines and melodic voices; she's been silk and satin, a soothing balm to his otherwise dark existence. But Hermione wasn't soft or melodic, she wasn't silk at all, more like something classic and durable. She was the type of woman that could eat dinner without you if you were late, but wouldn't give you the satisfaction of keeping any warm for you. She would be the type to forgo the flowers and candy at Valentines Day and request something practical like a blender. 

On the other hand, Hermione was also the type to say one thing and yet want another. She'd eat alone without complaint but silently cry herself to sleep. She'd ask for the practical but desperately desire the romantic. She was the kind to want adventure but settle comfortable if not wistfully for the mundane--but Severus had not intention of wasting such a woman with the ordinary.

He'd arrive home every night, exactly at six o'clock not because she'd cry without him there, but because he couldn't stand to be away from her longer than absolutely necessary. He'd promise her the blender and provide it, while secretly hiding the roses and jewelry box behind his back. He'd love her, adore her, worship her like no one else, because no one else could see how truly extraordinary she was. He'd kiss her every morning, worship her body every night, and fill the day with heavy anticipation for both. She wasn't Mellisson, wasn't soft and needy, she was confident and passionate, a true Gryffindor.

That thought brought a smile to his lips. He, a Slytherin, falling so completely for a Gryffindor girl, it was almost laughable, and yet completely understandable. Slytherins and Gryffindor's were opposites, just as Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs. Opposing houses could rarely stand the others company, and yet in terms of opposites they were so perfectly matched. 

Severus looked out into the rippling lake. Slytherin and Gryffindor fights were legendary, and he had no doubt that he and Hermione's would be as well. Too similar and yet too different, they were cursed to understand and despise each other for a lifetime.

__

The lifetime they'd spend together.

Sudden movement caught his eye, and he watched almost stunned as Hermione sat up and began to gather her things together. It was then he noticed the tolling of the bells that signaled third period and the eminent arrival of both the object of his affections, and his lovely daughter.

Morganna.

He groaned as he turned back to his desk. As if his thoughts of Hermione weren't confusing enough, he now had to come to terms with the fact that she was best friends with his secret daughter. A cold hand suddenly squeezed his heart and forced him stone still. How could he do it; the constant and beautiful reminder of his lost wife, and the radiantly smart subject of his new affection? Would he be forced to look into Morganna's eyes--perfect recreations of her mother's--and know his sins were too great, his crimes against his lost love too grand to ever hope to pursue a new one? Would the guilt consume him, force all thoughts of Hermione into the same category he used when thinking about his necessary crimes as a DeathEater? How would he ever survive the guilt of those crystal blue eyes when all he wanted to do was melt into sable ones?

Not for the first time, as Severus moved deep into the dark supply closet, he considered that life was very seldom fair.

***

"Um, uh, Hermione?" Came Neville's shaky voice from just inside the dungeon corridor as Hermione stepped through and began to button up her robe against the cold.

"Hello Neville, how was your holiday?" She asked politely as she finished her buttoning and began to walk towards the deepest and darkest part of the dungeon.

The plump boy quickly gathered his things and raced after her, tripping twice on the uneven stone before he reached her. "Hermione, um, I was wondering…now that your you, um, friend is going to Hogwarts, you're going to be her potions partner, aren't you?"

She heard it immediately, the slight shaking of Neville Longbottom's voice, the deeply rooted fear that without her help he'd never survive five minutes in Snape's classroom. He was probably right, Snape had had it in for Neville almost since the very first day, if Hermione abandoned him to his own devices, the boy would be melting cauldrons and blowing stuff up before the second stirring.

Sighing, Hermione offered her long time potions partner a smile before placing her hand on his shoulder. "Don't worry Neville, Morganna's been teaming up with Harry so far, and I doubt potions will be much different, besides, we've been partners forever, why would I ever pick anyone else?"

Few people were kind to the disorganized and clumsy Longbottom, and it showed in the enormous smile that graced his face, and the tears of relief that were just beginning in his eyes. "Thank you Hermione, thanks ever so much!"

Offering him another smile she sent him inside to claim their usual work bench before standing against the outer wall to wait for her friends. Unfortunately, she should have known better then to be waiting in the Slytherin domain with no one to back her up.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't the mudblood, back for another try at being a real witch."

Turning her head just slightly to the right, Hermione came face to face with Malfoy and his band of Slytherin groupies. He looked different from last year. His hair was longer now and tied into a ponytail at the base of his neck. He'd grown too, and was quickly approaching six feet. Long and skinny, with skin as pale as death, he looked like a dignified ghost come to terrorizes her with his calculating beady eyes. Surrounded by his usual bodyguards Crabbe and Goyle, and a few other hangers on, Hermione felt the sudden and real chill of fear. She might be smarter and braver than Malfoy, but he was still quicker with wand magic, and while he had his wand tucked safely in his sleeve, hers was tucked neatly away in her bag.

Deciding brains had to win over brawn today, she tipped her nose up at him and turned away. "Say whatever you'd like Malfoy, it doesn't hurt me. I know exactly what I'm capable of, regardless of what you and your lackey's think flows through my veins."

"Mud." Came Goyle's gruff response followed by the sniggers of the others. Only Draco refrained, staring at her intently, with eyes like icicle daggers.

Unnerved, Hermione turned away again. "We'll see about that. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm waiting for someone."

Pansy Parkinson suddenly started to giggle like a hyena. "Are you hoping that Wesley and Potter can turn you into a real witch, Granger? And here I thought that Quidditch player had already tried and decided you weren't worth the effort?"

Damn that girl! Hermione thought as her cheeks turned pink at the mention of Viktor. That wound was still open and raw. The thought that her hopes could be so easily dashed because she lacked wizarding parents, it stung her pride and threatened to dash her dreams.

Angry, and still smarting from Viktor's rejection, Hermione turned on Parkinson with a vengeance. "Contrary to popular opinion I am a real witch, you two bit wand waver!" The hallway fell silent. "Name any subject, any technique--even divinations--and I would still beat you hands down every time! So next time you want to imply something about sex Parkinson, maybe you should make sure you're not hanging off the coattails of Malfoy and all his money first!"

She saw Pansy go for her wand as if in a dream. One minute she was seething with anger, the next she was diving to the right, avoiding a rather ugly curse. She slammed into the stone wall hard, wrenching her shoulder before rolling out of the fall. Her wand was over five feet away, bundled up tight in her satchel, there was no way she was going to get out of this unscathed.

Another curse flew her way, as Parkinson started screaming holy hell at her. Ducking just in time, the curse crashed into the wall and sent chips of stone everywhere, a few cutting tracts into her hands and cheek.

She tried to get up, thinking she could rush the girl and wrestle the wand away, but as she rose, her foot caught in the hem of her robe and she fell down with a crash, letting out a loud cry as her injured shoulder once again hit the pavement.

The gleam in Parkinson's eyes was deadly as she raised her wand once more for the final curse, and though Hermione hated to admit it, she was well and stuck, still trying to free her leg from the twist of robes.

"Arachnofitus!" It was aimed right at her face, but at the last second she twisted again, so the curse hit her shoulder with a pain so brilliant, she saw stars. She heard her name being called, at least she thought she did, but the painful radiation of the curse had ceased, replaced now by a heart stopping feeling.

She was screaming before her brain knew what was going on, and when it finally figured it out, it could come up with only one word, "SPIDERS!"

They were all over her, covering her shoulder, crawling into her hair, making their way under her robes to sink their oversized pinchers into her flesh. There were hundreds and each brush of leg, each prick of pain sent her voice higher and higher until she was deaf with the sound of her own voice.

Suddenly, hands were everywhere, smacking at her, brushing at her robes, and as she continued to scream, there were other voices, ones chanting her name as they swept the spiders from her face and hair first.

"Hermione, stop moving!" Morganna! That was Morganna! Hermione opened her eyes to try and locate her friend, but a spider was just crawling over her cheek and she screamed again at the horror that sight instilled in her.

"We've gotta get her robes off fast!" Her mind was going numb from shock, she could tell because the first thought that came to her mind was that Ron hated spiders and yet he was trying to help her. Then one of the eight-legged devils tried to crawl into her ear and let loose another round of terrified screams. Tugs on her clothes quickly loosened the robes, but the arachnids had already made it past that level, and as they skittered under her shirt and down the front of her shirt, Hermione thought she'd pass out.

She thought she was a goner when she heard loud barking and growling, the awful feeling of spiders was soon overcome by the ripping and tearing of claws and canine teeth. She was lost, terrified and in pain. She fought against this new attacker, screaming when she felt those teeth grab a hold and pull her shirt off, turning her body around and around in the process so that she could feel the crunch and deaths of dozens of spiders under her flesh.

And then she was saved. "Elimerachtate!" She felt the difference instantly. No more bugs, no more creeping crawling spiders traversing her flesh, marking her body. The crawling from her hair was gone, and her face was free of hairy little legs.

"Hermione!" Came Morganna's voice as her friend tried to hold her. But she couldn't do it, could stand it. With another scream she wrenched herself way from those comforting arms and backed her body into a corner of the stone wall, crying softly and rocking back and forth.

"Inside, all of you, now!" Came the voice of her savior once again, and that one voice, more than the others made it through her rattled brain.

"But, uncle--"

"NOW!"

Through her sobs she heard the sound of shuffling feet and whispers until a deafening slam marked the final closing of the potions room door. She was alone.

Hands suddenly fell onto her bare shoulders and she cried out, trying desperately to get away from the gentle but cold grip. "Her--Miss Granger, can you hear me?" The voice was soft, gentle almost, with a strange caring quality she'd never heard before, well, maybe once before, back at Gram's house.

Her eyes came up, frantic and wild as she locked her gaze with Snape's. It was him alright, hooked nose, greasy black hair, and beady black eyes; not that she cared.

With a sob she buried her face against his chest. Her claw like hands gripped his robes as she did her best to crawl inside them, to escape the terror she'd just endured. She couldn't catch her breath, and great sobs stole it before she could use the oxygen to scream. Tears soaked the front of his robe, but she didn't care, nothing else mattered but that the spiders were gone, and she was safe as long as she stayed right where she was, tucked against Severus Snape.

"Snape, she's in a bad way." The voice was low and gruff, and Hermione had a hard time hearing it over the sound of her own relief. "We need to get her to Poppy." Sirius, that was Sirius; and the dog, those claws and teeth, that must have been him as well. She'd been saved by a shapeshifting fugitive and the meanest potions master in all of England.

The giggles started half way between a particularly terrible sob and another flood of hiccups. They were soft at first, but quickly rose in both pitch and speed as the situation came into focus. Here she was, a Gryffindor, curled up tighter than a potatobug against one of the most hated men in the wizarding world, relying on him to comfort her after his own house had done this to her. Oh, that was rich.

"Snape?"

The pull was gentle but firm as Snape pulled her half-naked form against his chest and lifted her as he rose. "She's in shock. Fetch Remus to teach in my place." And then they were turning, moving away from the light and the sanctuary of the sun.

A shuffling sound halted their retreat as Sirius raced to get in Snape's path and Hermione's giggles were renewed now that Snape was once again carrying her to safety. "Where the hell do you think you're going? The medical wing's in the other direction." Came a most protective growl. "Give her to me Snape, I'll take her."

NO! 

She had no idea what came over her, but with a terrified scream, she sat up against Snape's chest and threw her arms around his neck, her giggles now whimpers of terror. Severus had saved her, he'd been the one to finally stop those things from hurting her, he couldn't leave her, couldn't just hand her over! Her arms tightened even more.

"Shhhhh, hush Hermione," came a very gentle and soothing voice. "You're safe now, Luv, shhhhhh." She whimpered against him, and burrowed further into his neck when she felt his thumb gently caress her arm in comfort.

The shock of the situation was evident in Black's voice. "What the hell, Snape?"

The cold bite was once again in Snape's voice, even as he continued his thumb's gentle caress against her chilled and shaking flesh. "Out of my way, Black!" He took one step forward, and another back as Sirius moved again to block his path.

"What did you just call her?"

Suddenly the chill in the air was frigid and Hermione whimpered again as her tears fell and she tried to shrink away from Black's voice. But when Severus spoke, though Hermione didn't quite understand everything that was said, she knew it did the trick when they started moving again. "A man has many secrets Black, just as you and Remus seem to have one of your own. Now get Lupin down here to teach my class, or not even Albus will be able to protect Remus when I expose the mutt for the murderer."

What she heard from that point on was the soothing heartbeat that belonged to Severus Snape as he carried them both deeper and deeper into the bowels of a frozen hell.


	8. Chapter 7

Chapter 7  
  
Severus had long known that his rooms in the bowels of Slytherin's dungeons were drafty, but he'd never cursed that fact before. Now as he carried the tiny Hermione Granger through the mahogany doors, he wished desperately for a little more warmth.  
  
She'd been nearly delirious with shock the entire way, whispering over and over the word "spiders". Her shaking continued to get worse until he could barely make out her mantra past her chattering teeth.  
  
With a word the doors opened, and he moved swiftly into his chamber. In this one moment as he moved over to the couch, he didn't think he'd ever held something so preciously delicate--at least not since Morganna.  
  
Her hair was wild and full, tangled into disarray from the fingers, which had combed through it to dislodge the arachnids. She was as pale as death, and he pulled her in tighter to offer his body heat. Her clothes were shredded, and what she was wearing left little to the imagination.  
  
At the couch, he bent down to lay her small frame among the plush green upholstery and the burgundy throw pillows. Slowly--only when he knew she wouldn't be overly jarred--did he let his arm slide from beneath her knees, his palm caressing the backs of her naked thighs. With his now free arm he brought his hand to her face, brushing back that wild hair as he adjusted the timber of his voice to soothe her.  
  
The baritone he used was deep but soft, loud enough for her to hear past her own whispers. "Hermione, it's alright now. You're safe now." The word "luv" hung on his tongue like a curse and a prayer. He wanted to use it, wanted to speak it out loud to comfort her as well as himself-- she'd been hurt, and he'd taken too long to save her--but he couldn't. She was injured, the hundreds of small painful welts that were forming on her delicate skin told him that, he didn't need to confuse her--or himself-- with words he could do nothing about.  
  
For the briefest moment, just as his voice faded into antiquity, the terrified whispers ceased. It'd been the same in the hallway. The moment he spoke she'd quiet down, listen, before starting once again to whisper her terror. This was no exception, and as he brushed back the final strands of chestnut gold hair to reveal one savagely bitten shoulder, he could feel her lips moving once again against his neck.  
  
He tried again to speak to her as the soft patter of tiny paws approached the couch to investigate. "Hermione, I know you're frightened." He felt the lips against his neck stop and her head tilt just a fraction of an inch to hear him better. Severus pressed his advantage, running his palm from her crown to her waist and back again, feeling the little welts all along the way. "They're gone Hermione. No more spiders." He felt her echo the word. "That's right, no more spiders."  
  
With long slim fingers he lifted her chin, bringing her enormous, terrified eyes into view. His heart clenched and he lost his resolve to protect them both from his words. "Oh Luv, shhhhh, your safe now, Hermione. I have you now."  
  
There was no reason in those pools of liquid chocolate, only the terrorized look of someone on the edge. He thought back quickly to the files he'd memorized on all the students at Hogwarts, but couldn't remember reading about Hermione suffering from a phobia of spiders. He hadn't seen it happen--though he quickly figured out that the curse had come from Parkinson--perhaps the terror had started before that, he thought as he ran his hand across her upper back, then again--  
  
The sudden cry of pain froze him immediately in place as Hermione curled into herself, guarding her left half. More cautious this time, he stroked her back lightly and felt her tense up the moment he reached her shoulder. Hesitantly, Severus pulled her slight frame against him before looking down at her back. His curse was soft but vicious. The skin was already turning a deep purple and he found himself stroking his fingers around the edges to test her pain.  
  
She whimpered. "Hermione, I know you hurt, but you'll be alright, I promise." With a final caress, Severus settled her fully on the couch. He watched her eyes as he moved to step away and almost came back to hold her. With a quick turn he rounded the couch even as his heart clenched. She was crying now, soft whimpers of fear and panic, but he pushed the sound away--he had to concentrate.  
  
At the far end of the parlor was a solid oak door, and through that his bedroom, followed by the bathroom and the medicine cabinet. He caught his reflection in the mirror just as he heard the first of Hermione's sobs begin in earnest. He was paler than usual, with deep worry lines cut into his face. His eyes were haunted and not even the glamour could diminish his true worry for the young woman now sobbing for help. An idea struck him suddenly, and with a soft incantation, the glamour on his features melted away, revealing the true lines and definitions of Severus Snape. Hermione needed a friendly face, and the mask he wore was the furthest thing from that. She'd calm down more quickly if she didn't have to be afraid of her Potions Professor. Wasting little time, Severus grabbed a jar of healing balm and a dreamless sleep potion before turning on his heals. Back through his bedroom he approached the parlor, pausing for a moment to consider moving her to the bed for what he was about to do, but decided against it. He'd never be able to sleep in it alone once it held her scent.  
  
In the living room he rounded the couch and knelt down, ignoring the little creature that was now perched on the arm of the great winged back chair he favored most nights. Placing his supplies on the floor he brought his hands to Hermione's wrists and gently pulled her hands away from her face, doing his best to ignore her sobs and soft cries for help. But as her eyes made contact with his, her crying stopped, and she stared at him, her eyes alight with the knowledge that he hadn't left her. He smiled down at her before beginning his examination of her injuries.  
  
By some miracle her face had been spared the worst of the spider's bites, but the rest of her was an entirely different story. Hundreds of welts rose her skin, puffing it up in painful patches with tiny poison packed white dots at the top. Hands, arms, torso, legs, nothing was spared but her face, from the vicious bites. Black's only good move had been removing her shirt, which had trapped the spiders next to her skin. Now as he looked at her though, he realized his assessment of her clothing was not at all accurate, for she was nearly naked before him.  
  
Her shirt was gone, but the right cuff and part of the sleeve was still attached to her wrist. She wore a white bra in some kind of silky material, but the left shoulder strap had broken, and just above the rim of the cup was a half circle of dark pink skin. Without thinking about it, he fixed her bra, knowing he had no right to look at her now except with the critical eye of medi-wizard. Her black skirt was torn in shreds that extended from the waist to the hem, exposing weeping scratches from Black's claws. A sudden sense of rage at Black overwhelmed Severus for a moment, the damage would have been worse had Black not done what he had. Severus nearly growled at his own thoughts and quickly turned back to his assessment. She'd lost a shoe somewhere, but both socks were still in place and she looked nearly ridiculous wearing a pair of knee-hi socks with little else. In all she looked truly pathetic, and yet in that one moment, as he gazed down into eyes filled with so much relief at seeing him, he felt more for her than he had in the last year he'd been discovering her. She was breathtaking.  
  
And right now, she needed him.  
  
His cool hands went to her tear flushed cheeks, and he watched her wide brown eyes focus on him. "I didn't leave, Hermione. I had to gather some supplies." He brushed his knuckles against her cheek. "I know you're still scared, but you must try to relax, you've been bitten many times, and I need to apply an ointment to your skin to ease the burning."  
  
While a regular healing potion worked for most injuries, those involving any type of poison, like spider venom, could not be cured with such a concoction; however the balm he bent now to retrieve would draw the poison from the white tipped wounds, while the herbs healed the welts.  
  
When she didn't answer him, just continued to let those large heart wrenching tears leak from her eyes, he looked away. He almost thought he could feel her pain, sense her fear, and at the same time, her trust in him. It was too much for him, he'd lose himself if he continued to watch.  
  
The jar was made from clay, cork stopped, and easily opened with a gentle tug. His long slim fingers scooped out a large amount of the creamy gold mixture and he brought the substance to his mouth and breathed onto it, both warming and activating its power before rubbing it between his hands and starting at Hermione's left shoulder.  
  
Her eyes had followed him the entire way, and while he knew she was watching him, he also knew she was still too far away from him mentally to know what he was doing. As his fingertips touched the first inch of her poisoned flesh, she started, jerking away from him until he spoke her name again, soothing her softly with a tone he'd used only with her.and Morganna.  
  
A soft whine issued from Hermione, but Severus only offered her a soft smile before continuing, knowing the slight discomfort would be worth it to her once her mind returned from wherever it was now.  
  
Taking another glob of the cream, he again breathed on it, and then began to work his way carefully down Hermione's body.  
  
* * *  
  
It was dark where she was.  
  
For just a moment, Hermione entertained the thought that she was dead, that Pansy Parkenson, the little pug-nosed bitch, had embarrassingly done her in. God, she'd never live that down.not that she'd be alive in that scenario.  
  
For a moment her mind drifted. She'd been cold for a long time, but she was getting warmer by the minute, and the heat was steadily soothed her aching muscles. She couldn't recall why she was so sore, but she'd bet ten kunts it had something to do with Harry and Ron.and Morganna, mustn't forget about her.  
  
She remembered being afraid for some reason, something Parkinson had done. Hermione racked her brain trying to figure out what she was missing, but suddenly the most lovely sensations were happening all over her body. Soft, warm, light filled touches caressed her arms and neck, down the sides of her body to roll soothingly across her cramped stomach; down her hips and over thighs that felt as if they'd run a marathon; across the tops of her feet, and then the bottoms. She emptied her mind of Parkinson and the others, just letting this new delicious sensation caress her. In the void she sighed as warming rays of light flitted across her body to warm her from the inside. This must be heaven, she thought as she allowed herself to relax.  
  
Fear and terror had brought her here, but just now it was a rather nice place to be. She blinked suddenly, before letting out a soft giggle as that pleasant sensation tickled the back of her knee--she'd always been rather ticklish there.  
  
Suddenly a soothing, gentle tone filled the darkness accompanied instantly by a pastel kaleidoscope of colors, and Hermione soaked up the sounds and colors like warm butterbeer in the middle of December. She felt so much warmer inside and sighed with the pleasure of it all. As the colors drifted away, the darkness remained, but it wasn't quite as scary, not half as lonely as it had been before the color.  
  
Her thoughts were distracted when those gentle caresses returned, soft fleeting touches that drove her mad just as they drove her towards contentment. The sweet tones came again followed then by the soothing colors of light pink, yellow and blue. Something made her decide to latch onto the color this time, to try and make it stay a little longer, warm her a little more. With all the effort she could muster, Hermione willed her strangely floating body to open its mouth and ask the sound to stay with her.  
  
She suddenly, didn't want to be alone.  
  
* * *  
  
".don't go."  
  
Severus paused, his hands frozen in mid air as he turned to look at the young woman currently laying across his couch. From the beginning, her eyes had been open, a blankness that told him she was not in the room with him. But now, as he looked, there was a bit of focus coming into them, not enough to say she'd returned, but enough to let him know that she was aware she was not alone.  
  
He wanted to reassure her, to comfort her. With the back of his knuckles, he caressed her cheek, careful to avoid the painful looking cluster of bites under her left eye. "I am not going anywhere. Relax, I am almost finished." He listened to her gentle sigh before returning to the problem at hand.  
  
Hermione's breasts.  
  
Through the thin material he could see the small rises of bite marks and he knew the fabric was only irritating them further. The balm would help, would in fact, erase all signs of damage in only a few hours, but.could he do it.touch her? Did he have the right?  
  
She was hurting and he wanted to help her, to fix her, make her better, and then tell her to never do something ridiculously stupid as to fight a Slytherin in a pack again! She could have been killed--or worse!  
  
A Slytherin alone was one thing, but together, they were formidable. While they didn't often work together, Slytherin's were known to extract Life Debts, trading them like muggle baseball cards. A Life Debt made the indebted a virtual slave until the debt was paid off. Severus shivered at the memory of the one and only time he'd been the indebted. Lucius had managed to save his life one night from a rather hungry hobgoblin. For a month, he'd been forced to listen as Lucius reminded him day and night that he owed the blond a Life Debt. As it worked out, he managed to convince Voldemort a few weeks later, that Lucius should not die due to his stupidity in getting Narcissa pregnant and then trying to have her abort Voldemort's "future servant". Life Debt for Life Debt--and what the bloody hell was he going on about life debts for, he had much more important things to worry about!  
  
Hermione's breasts.  
  
And then, a decidedly devious and purely Slytherin idea entered his mind, giving him the answer to his problem. He could heal her, could use ancient magic to end this stalemate and make her well. Bind her to him in the language of old--trick her to make her his. Protect her and possess her, a combination he could not resist.  
  
Leaning forward, Severus manipulated his voice into black velvet. "Hermione, I need your permission to continue." He paused, watching her face, knowing he was walking a fine line but not caring--at least not overly much. "There are places I cannot heal you without permission."  
  
Again he paused, watching as her eyes slowly blinked before opening again. It was now or never. He cleared his throat, his voice at once becoming dignified and timeless as the full weight of his British accent came to offer one of the most ancient and binding of all wizard magic. "As is wizarding tradition, I, Severus Snape, Master of the Snape bloodline, pure since the days of Merlin, formally ask your permission to begin a BodyBond with you, Mistress Hermione Granger." He paused again, looking into her unknowing eyes before pressing forward, he told himself he had no choice as to his next statement, no choice but to force the issue. "I will take a lack of response as an answer of acceptance. You have ten seconds to deny the permission granted by your silence."  
  
For ten, long, torturous seconds, he waited, watching her for any sign of understanding or protest, not that she'd know what a BodyBond was to refuse it, few today did.  
  
When he reached ten and heard no sound from her, he closed his eyes, knowing he'd just started something that would drive him mad, but at the same time knowing that he couldn't deny the necessity of it--or his desire for it.  
  
Drawing his wand, Severus pointed the tip at Hermione, directly over her heart.  
  
"Despondeo me corpusesp et copula adiunctio adusque."  
  
I pledge my body and heart in union with thee.  
  
A cool silver light spread from his wand, out across Hermione's body, enveloping her in a beautiful spectacle of sparkles. Slowly, the silver light began to seep into her skin, entering pours and other openings, filling her body with the light of a true BodyBond. As the light filled her, leaving her skin aglow with an inner light none but perhaps Albus would ever notice, she sighed, letting her eyes drift closed in bliss. It was a simple bond to perform, with ramifications that outnumbered the sand in the sea.  
  
Severus felt a minor sense of panic; he'd just BodyBonded himself to a 15-- no 17--year old girl! Drawing a deep breath, and praying to the great Goddess that he hadn't made the biggest mistake in his life by entering into a BodyBond with a teenager, Severus quickly undid the front clasp of Hermione's bra and peeled back the fabric.  
  
As he'd suspected, the sensitive flesh was raw from the material and with a quick dip of his fingers into the jar by his knee, he was prepared to finish the job he'd started.  
  
And then, the little prat on the arm of the chair finally decided to speak. "Do you expect me to believe that you just complete a BodyBond with a teenager so you could touch her breasts." Came the rather superior and high pitched tone. "You could have just groped her to your hearts content, she is unconscious you know. But no, you seem to think a BodyBond is light magic. What ridiculously stupid game are you playing at, Severus?"  
  
Suddenly a second voice interrupted, this one just as high pitched, but filled with so much syrup and sugar it would have put a lesser man's teeth on edge to hear it. "I think it's soooooooo cute! She's beeeeutiful! They're meant to be, forever!" A squeaky sigh. "I'm so proud of you, Severus! I could just huggle you all day for this!"  
  
Then the voice changed again, this time returning to that of the superior know it all. "Don't you dare! I will not spend the rest of the week locked in the chest because of your stupidity. Severus is being idiotic enough for the both of you today! Honestly, Severus, what stupid notion is running through your head?"  
  
He spoke before he could catch himself, his heart speaking before his brain--a nasty habit he thought he'd overcome after Mellisson's death. "Familiarity breeds trust."  
  
The superior voice snorted. "It also breeds contempt. Think boy! BodyBonds don't just go away! You're stuck with her, a TEENAGER, for Cerise knows how long."  
  
The voice changed again. "I think it's so romantic! No matter how far the distance, they'll be linked, one body to the other." A deep sigh. "It's like a fairytale."  
  
Again, the voices changed. "She'll run off and break his heart! And that's just what we need, you trying to huggle him back from a broken heart."  
  
"I resent that!" Came the sugary voice. "Everyone deserves a huggle, even you, cranky pants!"  
  
"Shut up, Spike."  
  
"No! You shut up, Bubbles!"  
  
"Both of you, be quite." Hissed Severus, leaning his face up at the little creature. "I do not require a lecture or a huggle. I made the decision and it is done, regardless of the consequences. Now, leave me in peace so I can finish attending to her." Shifting back, he raised his hands, opening them flat to spread the balm quickly and efficiently. No matter how Slytherin he might be, he knew he had nothing close to her consent, and he wanted to get the job over with now as soon as possible.  
  
A few light strokes later, and the last of the bite marks were sufficiently covered. Now all she needed was a few hours rest. Wiping his hands off on a handkerchief from his robes, he retrieved the dreamless sleep potion and uncorked it.  
  
Careful not to jostle her, Severus lifted Hermione's head slightly, his eyes locking with her still cloudy ones. "The potion will help you sleep, Luv, just relax and drink it down." Slowly he poured the dark liquid into her mouth, relieved when she began to reflexively swallow. A minute later, when the potion was finished, he lay her back down among the pillows. "Now, rest, Hermione. I'll be here when you awaken," and with a quick movement of his wrist, he gently closed her eyes, and waited for the deep and even breaths he knew heralded her easy sleep.  
  
The sugary sweet voice came from the floor beside his knee, and he looked down into large golden eyes. "She's very special to you, isn't she, Severus?"  
  
He nodded, not yet daring to give voice to his thoughts, and indeed, the very action he'd just completed. A BodyBond, with a teenager! She was going to drive him mad!  
  
With slightly shaking hands--whether from fear or anticipation he didn't know--Severus raised his wand and began the delicate spells to heal his Bondmate's injured shoulder.  
  
* * *  
  
She knew at least part of her surroundings were a dream, but as Hermione blinked into the room glowing in firelight, she couldn't be sure which parts were which. Her body felt heavy, as if she'd slept for weeks. Swallowing a few times, she felt the thick aftertaste of some potion that contained sage, and she rolled her tongue through her mouth to clear the taste.  
  
She needed something to drink.  
  
That need established, Hermione shifted, rolling to her side and propping herself up on her elbow. A dull pain radiated from her shoulder, and she sat up more fully against the arm of the couch to take the pressure off. When she finally managed to look at where she was, she figured it was still a dream, a very, very expensive dream.  
  
A stone fireplace was diagonal from her feet and massive, casting a warm glow across the room like a fleece blanket, soft and comforting. The mantel was a good five feet off the floor, a shelf of some dark and tasteful wood. Little trinkets adorned the top, adding class as firelight bounced off crystal figurines, a statue, and a small wooden box. To the right was a series of massive bookshelves done in a rich mahogany, polished and gleaming in the fire's glow. Books of all shapes and colors were stacked on the shelves neatly, and Hermione didn't have to get up and look to know that they were all perfectly organized, though she somehow doubted that meant alphabetical. More personal possessions littered the bookshelves, and as her eyes wandered, she could see bobbles, jars, a few picture frames, and an assortment of wizarding gadgets that would have put a few Hogsmead shops to shame. A door followed, heavy and solid looking, the door of a great fortress, and whether that was the door to freedom or damnation, she did not know. More bookshelves, and as Hermione turned her head, she realized that the majority of the wall space was taken up by these massive tome displays, each neat and in full utilization.  
  
Next to the couch on which she resided was a massive winged back chair, the fabric a dark green, almost pine, with wood details at the feet and arm rests. Skilled hands had carved the frame, and she felt nearly mesmerized by the tight swirling patters that must have taken months to complete. A quick look at the plush couch she was laid across told her the material and design were the same as the chair, but the couch was color kissed by burgundy throw pillows, one of which her head had just been resting upon.  
  
She turned and looked just slightly behind her, seeing a thin table pressed against the back of the couch, two addition chairs like the first on either side, and a wizards chessboard in the middle with pieces in play. She took a second to examine the game, black was obviously win, though she doubted white had figured it out yet.  
  
Hermione wasn't quite as bad at wizards chess as she let on. Ron was a sore loser, and it was just easier to let him win, besides, it was one of the few things Ron was really great at, it just so happened that she was better.  
  
A sudden sound came from behind her, and she turned to see an oak door, light glowing around the frame. Startled, she collapsed her muscles, letting her body sink down to lay flat against the couch. She realized then she had no idea where she was, even if the little trinkets everywhere spoke of more money than she'd ever hope to see even if she someday managed to get a look inside the main vault of Gringotts.  
  
The sound came again, and Hermione held her breath, suddenly racking her brain trying to remember what had happened. She remembered Malfoy taunting her in the hallway, and then the start of the duel with Parkinson.and then, nothing. She tried harder, even closing her eyes in concentration. When that didn't help, she walked through the events one by one, hoping to dislodge some fragment of memory.still, nothing.  
  
With a sigh, Hermione opened her eyes, and had a terrible start, before reeling back against the cushions and just barely managing to hold in her squeak of surprise. Looking up at her while standing on two legs, with enormous golden eyes, was the cutest pink teddy bear she'd ever seen. Bright pink fluff lay gleaming and beautiful, while a cute furry nose was fastened to the patented teddy bear smile. The inside of its ears, paws, and snout was a light gray, and just where its heart was supposed to be, was a brightly embroidered, red glowing heart.  
  
Now she knew she was dreaming.  
  
With her logical mind in overdrive, Hermione decided that as long as this was just a dream, she might as well do a little exploring. Wincing from her stiff muscles, she pushed herself up before swinging her legs over the side of the couch.  
  
It was then she realized she wasn't wearing her clothes.  
  
A midnight black silk skirt was buttoned down the front of her frame, the sleeves also buttoned to hold the heat of her body from escaping at her wrists. The shirt was long, with tails that brushed the top of her knees while she sat. Suddenly, the fabric felt wonderful against her skin, and Hermione leaned back against the couch with her eyes closed, just letting the sensation of the most expensive silk she'd ever felt caress her skin as she breathed. Her head tipped to the right and she rested her cheek against the plush couch for a moment, feeling warm and safe. In this room, even surrounded by rich luxury, she felt welcome, safe and secure, emotions she hadn't felt in a long time, at least not since she'd become friends with Harry Potter and his Voldemort secrets.  
  
A dip in the cushion near her right knee caused her to open her eyes-- the pink teddy bear was now sitting next to her knee, its golden eyes staring blankly up at her.  
  
That was it, she wasn't dueling anymore! It was a purely male driven stupidity anyway, and if it caused her to have dreams about pink teddy bears that moved, she didn't want any part of it ever again.  
  
Still, a childhood fear presented itself as fears often do. She remembered watching a movie as a child, about a room full of toys that could move and talk so long as no one saw them. While the toys in the show had been cute and kind, Hermione had always had a strange fear about waking up some night to find her toys trying to kill her. A morbid fear for a seven year old, but one that had caused her to place all of her stuffed animals on shelves so she'd hear them if they tried to get down and come after her in the night. This transient teddy bear was a little too much like that old fear.  
  
But she felt safe here, she'd just admitted that to herself, meaning that there was probably nothing wrong with the pink toy, it was just that, a toy. Drawing a deep breath, she squared her shoulders and reached her hand out, one finger extended, to touch the toy.  
  
The minute her finger made contact with the soft fur, those golden eyes turned blood red, and the sewn mouth of the bear ripped open, revealing hundreds of tiny needle sharp teeth that at once turned, biting into her wrist and taking her hand off before she had time to scream.  
  
With a violent jerk and a gasp, Hermione's eyes flew open and she sat up, leaving the dream time.  
  
Shaking, and trying desperately to swallow back her fear, Hermione clutched the soft blanket to her, breathing deeply. Tipping to her side, she allowed her head to rest against the back of the couch, her eyes closed tightly to block out the sight of her hand being ripped off by a pink teddy bear.  
  
Once she'd got herself under control, she opened her eyes again, only this time they widened as she realized she was in the same room from her nightmare. Looking down at herself, she saw the black silk shirt, and as her eyes flew back up in a panic she realized that the walls were lined with bookshelves--expensive bookshelves. Her heart beating wildly in her chest, she turned, looking out across the room towards the fire.  
  
On the floor, not two feet in front of her, was a small, pink teddy bear, standing on its hind legs, with large golden eyes, and gray markings. Suddenly, it threw it's paws out and called in the most sugary sweet, voice imaginable, "HUGGLE TIME!!!" Before ambling towards her.  
  
And just like that, Hermione's jaw dropped, and she let out the most terrifying scream of her life, as she backpedaled across the couch before slamming into the wooden arm.  
  
Then the possessed demon toy stopped, a puzzled expression on its ultra cutesy face. "You don't want a huggle from Spike?"  
  
Her mouth opened and sound came out, but it wasn't anything coherent. What in the bloody hell was going on?! Was she stuck in a nightmare?!  
  
There was a sudden crashing sound behind her, and Hermione turned so quickly to find out what it was, that she fell right off the couch, landing on her bottom, completely tangled in the blankets.  
  
"Oh no!" The teddy bear--Spike--squeaked, "The pretty lady's all tangled up. Spike will help her!" And before she knew what was happening, tiny furry paws were tugging unsuccessfully at the heavy blankets.  
  
"NO! Get away from me!" Fighting both the blankets and the furry creature, Hermione backed herself into the corner of the couch and the chair, kicking out with her bare feet and clawing at the material covering her. That's why she didn't hear the footsteps, or hear her name being called until Professor Snape was crouching down before her, shaking her from her stupor.  
  
"Miss Granger, get a hold of yourself!"  
  
The shock of seeing Snape not five inches in front of her face, caused Hermione to shriek again, this time reeling back until her head hit the wood frame of the chair with a smack. She cried out in pain, before raising her hands to the soreness now throbbing at the base of her skull.  
  
"Oh no! The pretty lady's hit her head! We'll get ice!" And she heard the small creature race away, it's little paws shuffling across the thick oriental carpets.  
  
She whined, her eyes tightly shut against the pain in her head and the shock of not knowing what was going on. When long cool fingers moved to press gently at the point of contact, Hermione gasped and jerked forward, causing her nose to bump against Snape's.  
  
Caught off guard, he pulled back before blinking. But in that instant he must have seen the shock and fear on her face, because for once in his dark and bitterly mean life, Professor Snape's features softened for just a moment. "Don't move; your head injury isn't serious, but you've managed to fight your way into this blanket, and it is most definitely winning."  
  
Did Snape just make a joke? Hermione blinked, not quite believing what she'd just heard. And then she couldn't quite believe what she saw either.  
  
In the shadows cast by the fire, as Snape pulled and tugged, loosening the blankets from their stranglehold about her, Hermione saw something that very nearly stopped her heart.  
  
His nose looked smaller, not quite as long or hooked, even though it was still just, just, slightly too large. His cheeks were fuller, as if he hadn't starved himself for the last decade. His lips looked different too, fuller as well, not just two thin lines of colorless flesh, but pink and soft, kissable.  
  
That was it, Professor Severus Snape, looked completely snog worthy.  
  
Oh god, she must have a concussion, a brain hemorrhage, or maybe she was dead and this was hell. Letting out a low groan, Hermione dropped her eyes and her chin, raising her newly freed hands to cover her face. She was never, ever, going to allow herself to ever think of this moment again, ever! People terrorized by spiders and then attacked by living teddy bears were bound to suffer from some kind of mental exhaustion.  
  
And then she remembered.  
  
Spiders.  
  
Her head flew up, her eyes wide and panicked as they locked and held to those normally beady black ones that didn't look quite so black in this light. The shaking started immediately as she remembered the last curse Parkinson had been able to cast.  
  
Spiders.  
  
"Miss Granger?" Was that worry in his voice, concern? She didn't know.  
  
".spiders." The tears suddenly appeared and fell from her wild eyes, flowing over her cheeks to touch the corners of her struggling mouth. ".spiders.everywhere."  
  
Large, warm hands came up to her cheeks, fingers twining into her hair before Severus's handsome face came close to dominate her world. "The spiders are gone. They cannot hurt you." Vaguely, she heard herself whisper his words. "That's right, they're gone, dead. They can't hurt you anymore."  
  
Suddenly she panicked, breaking away from his grip. "No! They were everywhere! Everywhere! My hair!" She tugged at the frizzy mass of sun kissed brown. "My face!" Her fingernails racked over her cheeks, flushing the tracks pink. "My body!" And then she looked down, saw the black silk shirt, and with a terrified shriek she tore at it, her mind telling her that the spiders were there, hiding against her skin, ready to bite.  
  
Before she could get the first button undone, strong hands grabbed her wrists and pulled, before pushing her arms against the couch by her shoulders, as she screamed in rage. But at the first sound of Severus's voice, her struggles ceased, and her crazed eyes flew to his, holding on for life and sanity. It was serenity and order, all in one soft baritone that soothed her long enough to allow her mind to hear the words he spoke.  
  
"They're dead, Hermione. I cast the counter curse the moment I arrived. They can't hurt you, they're gone."  
  
Only one part got through to her. "You.you killed them?"  
  
He nodded, his eyes never looking away. "They can't hurt you."  
  
Hermione blinked. "You didn't let them hurt me." A statement. A fact. He'd protected her. She was safe because of him. And then by deduction.  
  
She was safe with him.  
  
Before she knew what she was doing, she'd let lose a loud sob and thrown herself into his arms, clutching at his robes as she soaked his chest with her relief.  
  
He'd saved her.  
  
He'd saved her.  
  
He'd saved her.  
  
* * *  
  
She was crying, sobbing, nearly hysterical once again, and all he could do was hold her as she clung to him. His hands wound into her hair, pulling her impossibly close to him, feeling her tears soak through his shirt--the exact match to the one she was wearing. She was so small and helpless in his arms, and he wanted her to stay right were she was, safe and protected, before he cursed himself for wanting her to continue crying just so he could hold her.  
  
"I wish I could say that." Guilt forced him to push her back gently, to make her look at him. "I didn't get there in time to prevent the curse or the spiders. You were hurt." He paused. "I've managed to draw the poison from your system, and you may be tired for a few days, but you'll be alright." He told himself the words were for her, to comfort her, but in reality, he knew they were for himself. He hadn't protected her, so he had to do the next best thing-heal her. It was a grossly insignificant contribution, he should have never let her be injured in the first place.  
  
But the angel in his arms only shook her wild mane of hair, sending trickling tears further down her cheeks. "No, you stopped the spiders, I remember, I heard your voice." Her hands fisted into the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer to her. Suddenly her voice dropped to a near whisper and her eyes grew hooded, secretive. "You stopped them when no one else could, when not even Ron and Harry could. You saved me, you did. You saved me from the spiders." And then she grew boneless, collapsing against his chest as she continued to breathe in ragged gasps.  
  
With Hermione cradled securely in his lap, Severus began a slow rocking motion, comforting them both with the sway of his body to some internal and universal rhythm. Again, her lack of spider phobia unnerved him, and with guilt still clinging to his voice, he asked her. "There is no mention of arachnophobia in your student file. When did this fear begin?"  
  
For a very long time, Hermione did not answer; and the room was silent except for the returning of tiny paws and the clinking of ice. Severus looked down at his companion and shook his head silently, watching the teddy bear's glowing eyes dim a little as it sat down before them on the green rug.  
  
When she finally spoke, it was whisper soft, and broken with past pain and a great deal of remembered fear. "I-I think I was seven, maybe eight." Her fingers flexed in his shirt, but eventually settled again, her nails just barely biting into his flesh. "My Gram had just died, and we went to go clean out the house. I remember mom and dad in the kitchen, and that it smelled like lemons. Mom was crying, she'd-she'd remembered something, and dad was holding her." Hermione pulled away, looking up into Severus's eyes before looking down at her position in his lap. "Not like this though, he wasn't holding her like this." She leaned against him again, settling herself as his eyes grew wide at her statement. "Daddy told me to go downstairs and get the box labeled 'Ballet'. Gram was a ballerina, she even danced for a great company in America until she married my grandfather."  
  
Pulling back again, Hermione looked up at him, her quizzical eyes burrowing into his for information. She sniffled. "I was going to be a dancer. Not just back then, but right up until I got my letter for Hogwarts. I never told that to anyone before." She shook her head, looking away from him to gaze into the fire. "Sometimes I think 'what if'. What if, I'd ignored the letter and gone to Julliard; I'd already been accepted there." She paused, and he could hear the pain the possibilities caused her. "I never told Ron or Harry. It hurts sometimes," she touched her chest, "here--to think about it. I was one of the best, really good, I might have been great." She leaned back, tipping her head to rest against his shoulder as she continued to search the fire for answers.  
  
"I think about how safe and normal being a dancer would have been, how I wouldn't have to fight Voldemort, or worry about being the brainy-ack of Gryffindor. I've always been smart, I skipped the second grade, but until I got here, to Hogwarts, school wasn't all that important. Nothing was as important as ballet class, point shoes, or rehearsals. I would never have been a prima ballerina, I knew that all along, and maybe that's why I decided to go to Hogwarts. It hurts knowing that even your best isn't good enough, that no matter how much I practiced, no matter how bruised or broken my feet got, my name would never appear at the top of the program." She sighed in his arms, her eyes drifting to his chest rather than the fire. "At least at Hogwarts I had a chance to start over again, to not only be great, but be the best. I studied harder than all the rest, and I've worked for every grade I've gotten, and it feels good but," she shook her head, "never mind, it's not important."  
  
Then as quickly as that, she switched back to her original story, but Severus had burned her past into his brain for future analysis; Hermione Granger was not the know-it-all that she portrayed, and her admission to the reason made him want to holder her even closer. Then there was the final note she'd denied to tell him, what could it be?  
  
"The box was in the back corner of the basement. Daddy said he'd seen it there a few years ago when he'd come down for the lawnmower. I wanted the point shoes you see, I thought that if I could fit into them then I'd really be a dancer, maybe even a prima ballerina someday.  
  
"So with mommy crying in the kitchen, something I didn't want to see, I ran down the stairs and into the basement. It was dark, but I was too excited to bother turning on the lights. The only reason I'd decided to come instead of staying with Aunt Tina was to get the point shoes, though I didn't tell Mommy and Daddy that." She sighed, stretching her fingers against his chest before fisting the silk once more, working it in her hand.  
  
"I saw the box, and ran straight for it, nothing else even registered in my head." She scoffed at herself. "That was my first stupid mistake."  
  
He never, ever, wanted to hear her call herself or any action she'd ever taken, stupid, again! "You were only a child, Hermione. You should not judge your mistakes so harshly."  
  
She pulled back, her eyes dark as she looked at him, disbelieving. "Why? Isn't that how you've judged me since the first day we met?"  
  
He felt like she'd punched him square in the gut. He closed his eyes, reliving all the horrible things he'd said to her and the other children over the last fifteen years, all designed to make them stronger for the fight ahead, every last hateful words said to make them hate him, and prove him wrong. Sometimes it worked, most of the time it didn't, but he had no other course of action to take in case Voldemort rose again and called him back. The sheraid had to be continued.  
  
Opening his eyes, he locked his gaze to hers. "Yes, that's exactly what I've done." He couldn't deny it, no matter how much it hurt him to admit.  
  
But Hermione just nodded, turning away and continued where she left off. "I made it to the box, but right when I got there, I ran into a spider's web." She shivered, and he tightened his grip, rubbing light circles into her back as he continued to rock them. "Dad told me later that I must have kicked the box over when I hit the web. There was a nest, with baby spiders, and I must have broken the egg sack when I ran into it." She paused again, and Severus felt the shaking start. "They were all over me. In my hair, on my face, all over my arms and legs. Little legs and hairy bodies..." She took a deep breath, trying in vain to calm herself. "They just kept coming, and I kept screaming, but with the door closed and my mom crying in the kitchen.no one heard me."  
  
Severus wasted little time in tightening his grip and increasing the velocity of his rocking. He never said a word, offered no worthless sounds of false comfort, his presence would have to be enough; and it was, because Hermione's panic began to lessen until finally, she hung limply in his arms.  
  
His voice was quite when he spoke for the first time, the timber soft and soothing as his hands moved to caress her golden, brown locks. "I see now. That many spiders must have been terribly frightening."  
  
But surprisingly, Hermione shook her head. "Not because of the spiders.they're just bugs, and I'm not scared of them like Ron is." She turned, letting her liquid eyes lock onto his, hold them prisoner to her pain. "I was all alone, it was dark and cold, and.and no one would save me. But this time-this time someone saved, you saved me." Slowly-and Severus knew her conscious mind was taking no part in this display-she brought her hand to his face and touched his cheek. "You did that, you saved me. I was all alone, it was dark and cold, and you came and saved me." The hand on his cheek came back around his neck, and then she was hugging him, letting him nuzzle her hair as she breathed in his scent.  
  
He could feel her comfort through the BodyBond, knew that she felt safe and comfortable in his arms. The thought nearly undid him. Here he was, holding a beautiful and sensitive, intelligent and confident young woman in his arms, one that was growing more and more comfortable with his presence, and yet one who, when in her right frame of mind, would return to hating him as the bastard he pretended to be.  
  
Severus clenched his teeth. Hermione was beautiful and sensitive, perfect for the man known as Severus Snape. But she was too delicate, too young and sweet for his alter ego Professor Snape. She'd pretend it was all a dream later, or forget this conversation entirely. Her mind would never allow itself to consider him a confidant, or worse, a friend. He wanted to hold her forever, to damn his past and start again, to start a new life with this small young woman. Leave Hogwarts, leave Voldemort, leave everything behind and start all over again. Was that so much to ask? Was it too much to carry her away into the night, take her to one of his estates and keep her there until he could convince her that he wasn't the bastard he pretended to be but a man, one of flesh and blood, one that desired her above all women? Was it too much? Yes. And so he continued to hold her, to breathe in her scent, and let his hands touch her, his fingers feel her textures and commit them to memory. He could never have her because she didn't want him.  
  
And then his newest theory flew straight out the window.  
  
Hermione Granger, woman/child that she was, slowly worked her fingers into the hair at the base of his neck, working the rough pad of her thumb against that most sensitive flesh. He couldn't help it; he shivered at the delicious contact.  
  
And then so did she.  
  
Hermione sighed, her body relaxing even as his own tensed beyond comfort, his nerves coming to life with the glorious sensation of a woman's touch. He wasn't prepared for her to feel the same.  
  
"Mmmmm, that was nice." She sighed, before doing it again, flexing her fingers against his neck, making them both shiver with delight, before she moaned that ancient call of desire.  
  
Her voice was music to his ears, the soft caress of breath against his neck the final stimulant he needed to react. He felt his body harden, his breath quicken, and those wondrous currents of electricity begin to flow through his body to center in that part of him that burned to have her, to claim her as his and spirit her away to their own private paradise. Gods, how he wanted her! His hand tightened in her hair.  
  
Eyes closed, lips parted just slightly as she drew in a heavy breath, Hermione's lips touched the side of his neck as she exhaled. "Again." Slowly, her hand released his shirt, drifting down his chest, her fingers playing against silk and flesh until she came to pants, and then went further.  
  
The back of her hand brushed against his growing erection. He just managed to hold back a gasp.  
  
Hermione didn't.  
  
With a little whine she pushed back against him before rocking her hips forward in a desperate plea from one lover to another. His arousal was her own, his need became hers. Their bodies were one, the same, connected by magic as ancient as time, and as timeless as magic.  
  
Hermione's head tipped back, her breath exhaling in one loud gasp as her eyes closed and blood rushed to color her cheeks in arousal.  
  
Severus's blood suddenly ran cold. He pulled back, his heart racing, as he looked down at the wanton image of this young and tempting goddess, this newly made woman, begging the only way she knew how, for his touch. A BodyBond was ancient magic, magic that not even the wisest wizard completely understood. Their close proximity increased the power of the bond, distance would weaken it, but it would still be there, her body tied to his, his body tied to hers. What he felt she felt, his desire for her was matched only by her growing desire for him. He wanted her desperately, and now too, did she want him.  
  
What had he done?  
  
"Don't do that." Came her dreamy reply as her hand came up to rest against his racing heart before moving to her own chest, feeling the rapid beating of her own in tandem, in synch, their emotions a perfect match.  
  
Then her hand moved back to his chest, her fingers flowing like water across his collarbone. Slowly, her eyes closed and she exhaled, a purely sexual sound of contentment as her head rolled back to rest against his shoulder. With a careless look, a slow, sweet smile found its way to her lips, and Severus knew in his mind, just as his body now did, that smile was all for him.  
  
NO! Too soon! He had no right!  
  
With a panicked push he rose to his feet, swinging her around to nearly drop her onto the couch as she let out a little squeak of surprise. Ignoring her bewildered look he moved away from her, from temptation, to stand by the fireplace, his chest heaving with the strain of arousal she'd caused with her innocence. His chest burned, his fingers tingled, and he cursed himself in a dozen languages for what he'd started. He wanted her back in his arms, desperately, a place he knew she wanted to be as well. But he couldn't, he wouldn't take advantage of her--at least no more than he already had this night. Too much too soon and she'd resent him, he wouldn't allow that, wouldn't screw this up-whatever this was.  
  
On the floor behind him, Spike gave a little whine. "Oh, good magic and bad magic. Bubbles is going to say I told you so!" The pink bear covered its large golden eyes and moaned before giving a few sniffles.  
  
He couldn't face her, couldn't turn around and explain why he'd let her go, why she wasn't back in his arms where she belonged, where he could feel she wanted to be. Through the bond he could feel her body tingling as much as his own, knew she was confused and needing. Her body was telling her one thing, her mind another, and now he had to convince her that her mind was the way to go. He had to make her deny the call of their building desire.  
  
And then he realized that Spike had given him the perfect opening.  
  
Turning around, thankful that the back light would hide his body's reaction to her in shadow, Severus looked down at his familiar, avoiding the pain he knew would be in Hermione's eyes. "Perhaps it would be prudent to introduce yourself, Bubbles."  
  
He didn't have to see it to know. Hermione's natural curiosity perked up and she looked down at the bemoaning teddy bear, her voice soft, almost drifting, as if she were forcing her way through the confusion to follow the path he'd laid for her. "Who's Bubbles?"  
  
Suddenly the little pink teddy stiffened. It's back straightened, its fur seemed to bristle a bit more, and as the tiny paws moved away from its eyes, Severus could see that the color had changed from golden to silver. In a very dignified and arrogant tone, the little bear now spoke. "I madam, am Bubbles, and you are most certainly more of a pest than you're worth." And with that, Bubbles left the room.  
  
It was silent for a long time as Hermione continued to stare at the spot where Bubbles has been standing. But the silence was thick, filled with confusing and heavy with worry. Severus cleared his throat, and watched Hermione's head jerk up to look at him. He needed to focus her attention, and so with a quick change of both voice and posture, he was once again the teacher, and she the student. "Bubbles and Spike are the same being. A.present from Dumbledore when I was still a student here. You've no doubt noted that Spike is rather.friendly, while Bubbles is not." Hermione nodded, just a fraction of an inch. And then she was nodding full force, as if her body had accepted there would be no resolution to what had transpired, as if she knew she could not ever again speak of what had happened.  
  
He had not felt such pain since Mellisson's death. Taking a deep breath, he called into the other room hoping to distract them both, his voice harsh and cold as Professor Snape's should be. "Spike, come back in here and introduce yourself as a decent familiar should!"  
  
"Familiar?" He turned to look at Hermione just as the little bear came back into the room. She appeared grounded now. Her eyes no longer held that passion glazed look and her posture was more formal and cold. But to his relief, there was a softness around the edges that had never been there before while she was in his presence; a kind of physical memory of what they shared that she was not quite ready to let go of yet. Instantly, he found himself copying her posture. His shoulders relaxed, his stance became less tense, and he saw her relax further as well, until they were both comfortable again. It seemed so natural now to be with her, to be standing by the fire and looking down at her, swallowed entirely in his shirt. The ache was gone, but the need to hold her was still strong; he contented himself by moving closer to her as she continued. "I thought there were only four kinds of familiars," she asked quietly, "owls, toads, cats, and bats?"  
  
He nodded as he moved to sit in the chair facing the fireplace, relieved when she turned on the couch to face him more fully. She seemed a bit nervous, as if she expected him to yell at her, and Severus realized that in his Professor persona, he most likely would. But that wasn't going to happen this time or ever again. She was special to him, important as no woman had been in many, many years. It was time to be Severus the man, at least with her; with her, he could be something more, for her, he'd try.  
  
Spike came bounding into the room, nearly skipping, and he watched worriedly as Hermione withdrew a bit into the couch at the sight. He decided to ignore her withdrawal for the moment and focused on answering her question. There was no malice in his voice as he spoke, only a soft, gentle desire to impart knowledge to her; and he watched Hermione respond to it like a flower taking its first rays of sunlight. "That is true. The standard familiars for Hogwarts are those four creatures, but upper level wizards can charm just about anything to become a familiar." He bend down to pick up Spike, letting his fingers scratch that spot just behind its left ear that made the little creature purr like a cat. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Hermione crack a smile, her eyes lighting with an inner glow, whether from his lack of usual gruffness or because of Spike, Severus didn't know. He looked over at her as he continued. "As a student, I had no familiar. Albus thought that.quite a waste. He enchanted this fellow to keep me company." He smiled down at his familiar. "Over the years, it grew to take on the personality of its owner, hence Bubbles."  
  
The color of the bear's eyes changed, but Bubbles continued to sit in Severus's lap, allowing itself to be scratched.  
  
"So," He turned to look at Hermione, that curiosity that was so much a part of her, twinkling in her eyes. "So, Spike is an enchanted teddy bear given to you by Dumbledore, and Bubbles is the result of you being its master." He nodded. "So, why did it pick Bubbles as its name?" She asked in genuine curiosity.  
  
Bubbles, suddenly taking interest in the conversation, turned to offer her a glare. "My name is no business of yours, you silly girl! You shouldn't even be here! You're a million times more trouble than your worth, and I know that multiple is going to continue to increase!" It huffed as Severus took the side of his finger and bopped the bear on its sensitive nose. "Ow!"  
  
"Behave." He said, offering his friend a withering glare that had the bear grumbling. He looked up at Hermione and opened his mouth, before closing it suddenly. He paused, realizing he had been about to call her Hermione. No, he decided, it was too soon for either one of them to be that informal, far too soon to confuse her further. "Miss Granger is our guest, and you will treat her accordingly." He gave his familiar a knowing look and with another huff, Spike was back, while Hermione smiled strangely at the word "guest".  
  
"Oh, we'll be extra special nice to her Severus, promise, promise, promise!" Spike turned to gift Hermione with a smiling mouth of needle sharp teeth. "I think she deserves extra tight huggles! First, I'll huggle her, and then Bubbles can huggle her, and then you can huggle her, Sev--" The rest of the sentence was muffled as Severus wrapped his hand around its mouth.  
  
He was used to Spike and its insane desire to huggle everyone and everything. But a quick look at Hermione had shown her to have suddenly gone quite pale, and he grew instantly alert. "Miss Granger?" When she didn't answer, he rose, set Spike down, and crossed to sit beside her on the couch, the need to touch and comfort her, a driving force.  
  
But she continued to stare at Spike who sat bewildered on the chair cushion. "Are you alright?" He asked, placing a hand on her shoulder and started when she jerked around to look up at him with her wide chocolate eyes.  
  
"I.I dreamed your familiar ate my hand." She paused gathering her thoughts as she shook her head. "I hadn't even seen it before, and yet I saw it clearly. Needle sharp teeth." She paused, drawing in a deep breath. "I went to pet it because it was so cute, and then," she shuddered, "it took my hand right off." He watched her cradling her right hand protectively.  
  
"OH NO!" Spike cried, jumping off the chair and racing over to the couch before Severus could comment. "No, no, no, the pretty lady can't think mean things about Spike. Spike would never eat the pretty lady's hands! Severus, pick me up so I can give her a huggle. I don't want her scared of me!" A moment later the teddy bear was situated in Severus's lap. It extended its paw to lightly touch Hermione's knee. "Spike is very gentle. It likes kids, and lollypops, jellybeans, and especially pretty ladies! Even Bubbles is nice too, even if it is grouchy sometimes. Bubbles would never hurt the pretty lady, never! Spike and Bubbles are loyal to Severus, and we never, ever get any guests. I promise, promise, promise, Spike and Bubbles will never, ever eat your hands, or your feet! Cross my heart and hope to never get another huggle for the rest of my animation!" And it did just that, took one gray on pink paw and crossed the embroidered red heart on its chest before bending over and latching itself to Hermione's bent knee in a rather lame attempt at a huggle.  
  
A moment later, Severus knew everything was going to be alright.  
  
Hermione giggled, the color coming into her cheeks again. "Thank you, Spike. I don't know why I had that dream, but it's a relief to know that if I pet you, you won't try to eat me."  
  
"Oh no! Spike would never try to eat you for petting me. But, um, if you want to pet me," If a stuffed animal could look sheepish, this one did. "Could you scratch me behind my left ear, I can't ever reach it. See?" Spike tried to scratch, but it was obvious its paw was just too short. "My right paw's longer than my left one, so I can scratch that ear, but this one is silly. Not even Bubbles can reach it, only Severus can, but sometimes, he's too busy."  
  
Slowly, still a bit hesitant, Hermione extended her hand out to lightly touch Spike's head. Immediately the familiar began to purr, and Severus watched Hermione smile as she flexed her fingertips just behind Spike's ear.  
  
Again the silence stretched on, this time interrupted by the sounds of Spike's purrs; but unlike before, there was no tension in the room, and Severus stared openly at Hermione as she concentrated on reaching just the right spot to send Spike into a fit of contentment.  
  
If he thought she was beautiful asleep, she was gorgeous awake, vibrant and alive as she smiled down at the little creature. He'd known she'd like Spike and even Bubbles, Hermione was the type to adore small creatures. He'd seen that first hand in her one woman campaign to bring justice to the house elves, and he heard in the staff room, Hagrid praise her work with all kinds of magical creatures.  
  
The more time he spent with her, the more he realized, he didn't want her to leave; and that was precisely why he stood up, and moved to the fireplace. With a flick of his wrist, the small wooden box on the mantel opened, and he reached inside to grab a handful of green floo powder.  
  
"Kitchens." He called before sticking his head into the now green flames. He watched as the Hogwarts kitchens came into focus and Dobby the house elf Potter had freed from Malfoy came into view.  
  
"Good evening, Professor. Can Dobby be bringing you a nice bit of supper for the evening, Sir?" Severus had to admit, his own estate was run almost completely with the aid of these tiny creatures, and yet it had taken Hermione to show him how mistreated they'd been even on his liberal estate. Now most of his old house elves resided at Hogwarts, and he nodded to a few of them as they acknowledged his presence.  
  
"Please; and bring enough for two, I have company this evening."  
  
Dobby nodded. "Yes, Sir, professor. Dobby will be bringing the very bests from tonight's feast, he will." And with that the little elf scurried off to get started.  
  
Pulling out of the fireplace, Severus turned to find Hermione staring at him, Spike forgotten in her lap. She stared at him for what seemed like a lifetime, and he could do nothing but stare back at her, caught up in the ability to look at her once again.  
  
Finally she cleared her throat and ducked her head, a light blush coloring her features as she resuming her ministrations against Spikes coat. "I'm to eat dinner with you then?"  
  
Severus breathed a mental sigh of relief, this question he could handle. "It is rather late, Miss Granger, and you've missed dinner. I assumed you'd be hungry."  
  
He watched her nod her head. "A little. May I use your bathroom?"  
  
Nodding he pointed at the door behind the couch. "Through there. It's the door on the left in the bedroom."  
  
Bedroom.  
  
He felt her heart jump at the word, felt it because his own heart did the same thing. His hand came up to the mantel for support as her eyes shot to his, held his as he held hers. Tension filled the room again, thick and heavy as it trapped the both of them.  
  
Finally she nodded and rose. With one final pet, she set Spike on the couch and moved away from him. The black silk of the shirt she wore caught in the firelight, reflecting golden hughes in the shadows of her hidden figure. Black against creamy white, her legs were perfection as she moved away from him. He watched her hesitate at the threshold, debating with herself as her heart beat wildly in her chest. He could almost hear her mental conversation. This was his room, his domain, did she have any right to enter? Hermione was the type to respect privacy; she was wary to enter his most personal space. The parlor was safe, but a bedroom held so many more secrets. Then with the tiniest nod of her head, she entered and softly shut the door behind her.  
  
With a shake of his own head he walked back to his chair and fell into it. Leaning forward he allowed his head to fall into his hands. What in the blood hell was he going to do now?  
  
He heard the pop a second before the old and yet cheerful voice. "Ah, Severus, there you are. We were beginning to worry you'd fallen into one of those rather large cauldrons of yours and couldn't get out."  
  
With annoyance Severus looked up at the glowing green face of Albus Dumbledore. "I should be so lucky." He groused, leaning back into the chair, feeling it mold around him.  
  
Albus chuckled. "My dear boy, always such an optimist. I was hoping you could help me with a little problem that's suddenly been brought to my attention." Instantly alert, Severus leaned forward to catch all the details. He should have known better as his mentor struggled to prevent the smile from taking over his jolly face.  
  
"It seems that there was a little tussle outside the potions classroom this afternoon, and Miss Granger has somehow managed to disappear. While it is true that the floors have been known to swallow the children on occasion, they are usually fairly good about spitting them back up around dinner time. But I now find that dinner is hours past, and Miss Granger has yet to make a soggy appearance anywhere. Then there was the rather furious Sirius Black who only minutes ago was persuaded to leave my office without hunting you down like.well, a dog. Something about you carrying our missing student off to your cave while spouting poetry. You wouldn't know anything about this, now would you Severus?"  
  
First, he was going to kill Black, then he was going to kill Albus, and then, just for good measure, he really was going to carry Hermione off to a cave spouting poetry--though he doubted she'd like the idea very much. Leaning back again, he addressed his mentor. "Miss Granger was injured during an unauthorized duel this afternoon. As my quarters were closer than the medical wing, I took her here to administer treatment. She awoke only a little while ago, and as she has missed dinner by hours, I've called into the kitchens for supper. Further, I have disciplined those in the duel and will issue Miss Granger her punishment once she's eaten, before sending her back to Gryffindor Tower." There, perfectly logical!  
  
"Ah yes, very good Severus." And then that insane grin was back, brightening Dumbledore's face so that his eyes twinkled from some inner light. "Is it safe to assume that Miss Granger will be receiving yet another weeks worth of detention.with you, of course?"  
  
Damn the man for seeing more than anyone should! With teeth on edge, Severus spoke. "It was I who was inconvenienced by having to care for her. She'll spend the required detention with me just so I can get myself back onto schedule."  
  
Albus chuckled. "I'm sure it was a terrible inconvenience, Severus." His tone letting them both know what he thought of that flimsy excuse. "Well, as long as she's been found. Please see that she gets back to her room sometime tonight, and I'll inform Minerva that she's in good hands." So with another popping sound, Dumbledore disappeared from the flames.  
  
He couldn't help it, his sigh turned into a growl.  
  
Spike looked up at him from the couch. "Spike thinks that its creator is very, very clever, not to mention huggle worthy!" And the little bear hugged itself for lack of a partner.  
  
Severus just shook his head before dropping it back into his hands.  
  
A moment later came the arrival of the food, and after giving his thanks to the three house elves that brought in what couldn't be anything but a complete sample of everything offered at the meal, he arranged the food on the table situated behind the couch.  
  
"Wow." He turned slowly, knowing she'd been standing in the doorway for quite a while, just watching him.  
  
"Take a seat, Miss Granger, we have much to discuss." She nodded, approaching the table. Suddenly she stopped, looking around the room for something. "What's wrong?" He asked.  
  
"Wasn't-wasn't there a chess board here earlier?" She looked up at him, and for some reason, he felt she desperately wanted the answer to be yes.  
  
He shook his head. "No, the table was empty before the food arrived."  
  
"Oh," and he could hear the strange disappointment and concern. "It must have just been a dream." He waited for her to take a seat before taking his own. "Curious, black was winning, but, but it was obvious white didn't know yet."  
  
He opened his mouth to comment when Spike interrupted. "Spike is hungry!" Came the sudden whine and appearance of Spike sitting on the couch back. "Severus would give Spike yum-yums if he loved it!" And Spike opened its mouth to receive the expected food.  
  
He rolled his eyes as Hermione giggled, and it was the giggle that brought the smile to his face. He watched as she set down her fork and tickled the bear's tummy before selecting a candied cherry off a slice of coconut cake and handing it to tiny paws. In a blink Spike had popped the cherry into its mouth and was presently rolling around making "yum" sounds. Hermione laughed, her whole face lighting up at the sight.  
  
Finally Spike sat up. "Pretty lady, you can come and visit anytime you want! Spike promises to protect you from Bubbles, no missing hands ever! We'll be best friends forever, just like Spike, Bubbles, and Severus! Best friends forever!" And the bear hugged itself again with shear happiness.  
  
Hermione laughed. "Thank you, Spike, but please, call me Hermione from now on. If we're going to befriends, then I must insist."  
  
Spike emphatically nodded its head, and for the rest of the meal, he and Hermione offered Spike bits of food to appease its appetite for all things with sugar.  
  
When all three were full beyond reason Severus sat back and began the conversation he'd dreaded and yet knew had to take place.  
  
"It was a ridiculously foolish thing for you to try and take on five Slytherin at once. Explain your actions." He tried not to sound condescending, but he was still angry with her and himself over what had happened.  
  
She tensed, and yet her muscles weren't as hard as they could have become, her expression not quite as indignant, and he knew she understood that he was being gentle with her. "I didn't do anything. Pansy Parkinson attacked me--an unarmed witch--without so much as an issue of challenge." He looked at her skeptically and she hurried forward. "I was waiting outside for," suddenly she thought better of something, "Morganna, when Malfoy and his gang showed up and started, well, harassing me."  
  
"Harassing you?"  
  
"Yes, harassing me." She tried to rush forward, but he cut her off.  
  
"How exactly where they harassing you? Speak frankly, my judgment rests on it." He needed to know, something in her reluctance told him. She knew better than to pick a fight with a gang of Slytherins. She wouldn't have done it unless she'd been backed against a wall.  
  
Some of the fight left her eyes then and she turned away to look at the fire before dropping her eyes to her hands. "They, they just made a remark about my heritage."  
  
Mudblood. Gods how he hated that word. It made his skin crawl to hear such a backwards term still being used millennia after it had been conceived. As a Death Eater he'd been forced to use it often, and he still felt dirty even thinking the word.  
  
But that couldn't have been it, not all of it. Draco and Pansy had called her that before, and while he knew she'd smacked Draco good for it at least once, she wouldn't have let it cause a duel. There was more to it.  
  
"What else, Miss Granger. I happen to know name calling is not something you take much stock in." He said, giving her a glare of impatience when she again delayed.  
  
With a sigh she nodded before looking down at her hands again. "Pansy just, she just mentioned something unkind about.something that happened to me. It doesn't matter, it was stupid and I overreached." Suddenly the fight was back and she gave him a hard look, daring him to disagree with her and side with his house. "But I didn't pick a fight. Pansy raised her wand and threw the curses at me, I didn't even have my wand!"  
  
"Another stupid thing to do. Hogwarts students are to carry their wands at all times--"  
  
She cut him off. "I was! It was in my satchel, but when she threw the first curse, I had to dive away to avoid it."  
  
"That's no excuse! Ten points from Gryffindor for not having your wand on you." He saw the hurt enter her eyes immediately, but he wasn't going to back down on this. She'd think his assessment of the situation was unfair, but she'd remember to keep her wand on her at all times, and that was what truly mattered. She couldn't be allowed to walk into Slytherin's domain without being prepared, there were too many young Death Eaters trying to make a name for themselves by injuring a friend of Harry Potter's.  
  
"Now," he continued. "Tell me what it was that Miss Parkinson said to you to start this, or believe me, you will not like your punishment at all, Miss Granger."  
  
He expected her to hedge a bit more, but instead, the sound of her name hadn't even died on the air before she threw the answer back at him. "She mentioned Viktor, alright!"  
  
Ignoring the anger and sarcasm he pressed forward. "I see no reason for that to--" He never got a chance to finish.  
  
Tears of frustration filled her eyes, and he saw the pain written clearly across her face as her cheeks flushed and her teeth bit savagely into her lower lip. She turned away from him. "Viktor and I.we were seeing each other last year." She paused and cleared the tears from her throat. "We're not allowed to see each other anymore because.because," her voice caught before a pain filled rage filled her body and voice. "Because I'm a mudblood! Because my parents are muggles! Because my skills aren't enough to prove that I'm a good enough witch! Because he's a pure blood, and his mom doesn't want anything to mess up their perfect family tree!"  
  
Her pain was like a living thing inside him. She ached knowing that to some her own accomplishments meant nothing, that in the end, it would all come down to lineage and no amount of studying would ever give her that. It was the burning that came from knowing that no matter how good she was, there would always be those that diminished her credits because she was a first generation witch. He was familiar with her pain, Lily had felt the same way. He sometimes wondered if she fell so deeply for Potter because of his lineage, because by marrying him she could secure the backing of a pureblood family. No, he amended, Lily loved James regardless, but it would have been something she at least let swim through her mind once or twice.  
  
"Miss Granger," she looked up at him, startled by the compassion in his voice; and it was compassion, he understood her, and his voice told her as much. "School regulations state than an unauthorized duel is grounds for dismissal, with a minimum punishment of a weeks detention. Therefore it is with reluctance that I issue you a weeks worth of detention." She tried to protest but he held up his hand to stall her. "Rest assured that Miss Parkinson will be spending the next month with Filch, while you will be learning how to brew a few much needed medical potions for Madam Pomphrey."  
  
Her startlement was obvious. "Medical potions?"  
  
He nodded before rising from the table. "Now, it's late. You are dismissed from today's introductory paper on memory potions, though I expect you to be caught up on the readings before our next class. Your detentions will begin this Saturday. Do you have any questions?" Dumbly, she shook her head. "Very good. Then you are--"  
  
"Um, Professor?" He looked down at her to continue. "Um, how exactly am I supposed to get back to the Tower?" And then with a dramatic sweep of her hand, she pointed out her current unacceptable attire.  
  
He considered for a second that she seemed rather comfortable standing in a silk shirt and little else before him, but he commanded himself not to dwell on it as he moved to the fireplace. With a flick of his wrist he gripped his wand and muttered a few passwords, and a redirctional charm. His fireplace flashed with a sudden burst of light, and then he turned back to her, indicating the hearth.  
  
"Your room has been added to the Hogwarts floo network. You may leave through here." He didn't stop to think how much easier it would have been to have just transfigured her some clothing, he knew the real reason he'd added her room to the network, and right now he didn't want to analyze that particular slip.  
  
She nodded, approaching the fireplace as he grabbed a hand full of floo powder and threw it into the blaze, turning the flames green.  
  
One hand on the mantel to assist her into the blaze, her face was aglow with flames that did nothing but highlight her best features, and turn her eyes the most compelling shade he'd seen in many years. The silk was riding high, the tails just barely covering her most intimate parts with her hand raised so high. But she was unconscious of the pose she had taken, her eyes filled with warmth.  
  
"Thank you for helping me, and for understanding. I.I really appreciate it. I.didn't expect you to understand or.or to help me."  
  
He couldn't help it. His hand came down to touch her shoulder, and later he realized he'd touched more skin than silk. "You're welcome. Now go to bed, it's late." She nodded before offering him a slow smile, one not at all fit for general use. His hand slipped to her lower back as he helped guide her into the flame as she stated her destination.  
  
And then she was gone, her secretive smile with her.  
  
He turned back to the room he'd had for the last fifteen years at Hogwarts.  
  
Without her here, it was suddenly much colder. 


	9. Chapter 8

Chapter 8  
  
Hermione chose not to dwell on the memories that rushed immediately into her head when she awoke the next morning. Crookshanks was snuggled next to her shoulder, and she reached out to pet him. She tried to focus on what needed to be done this morning. She needed to get up, shower, dress, eat breakfast, and then attend her arithmancy class. Sighing, Hermione pulled the covers up a little higher around her chin, a drowsy floating feeling coming over her; the day could wait, right now she just wanted to lay in bed and think.  
  
The words floated into her mind as if she were submerged in water.  
  
Severus Snape, Potions Master at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and bane of her existence.  
  
Severus Snape, Potions Master at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardy.  
  
Severus Snape, Potions Master at Hogwarts.  
  
Severus Snape, Potions Master.  
  
Severus Snape.  
  
Severus.  
  
Severus.  
  
Severus.  
  
That was actually a rather distinguished and sexy name if you said it like that, Hermione thought as she rolled to her side and scratched her kitty once more. Her fingertips slid through silky fine fur, her short but manicured nails, scratching idly; her blue eyes were dark as midnight and half closed in a waking dream.  
  
Severus.  
  
Her eyes drifted shut as her mind swam. He'd looked so damn yummy in her parent's entranceway. Those jeans, that tee shirt, that leather jacket. She sighed, and those sun glasses.  
  
Warmth flooded her body, a feeling that centered around her stomach and radiated until it reached the tips of her toes; she flexed them on instinct. Drawing her hand from Crookshanks fur, Hermione brought her fingertips to her neck, flexing them over her own flesh, feeling the rise of goosebumps and that sensation that comes right before you shiver. A soft, secretive smile stole over her lips and as she leaned back down across the bed, she sighed once more.  
  
Severus.  
  
She smiled as the fingers at her neck slowly traced down the center of her body. Her breaths coming a little faster.  
  
Severus.  
  
Idly her fingertips traced the edge of her tank top; the accidental touch of flesh to flesh making her skin vibrate.  
  
Beside her, Crookshanks bolted up and turned sharp eyes to his mistress.  
  
"Severus." She whispered softly, testing the name out loud as her hand slipped under the fabric of her shirt. Her warm, moist palm pressed against her taunt and quivering stomach. Her shoulders rolled, her back arching just a fraction of an inch at the contact. She folded her hand, her knuckles brushing the underside of her ample breasts.  
  
"Severus."  
  
The jolt was powerful, a sizzling down her spine. Her eyes flew open, and like a whip crack, she was sitting up, panting, her eyes wide and frightened as she came out of her daze. She couldn't explain the feeling, the tingling awareness of something in the back of her mind. Her hand fluttered to her throat, and beside her Crookshanks stretched into her lap, sliding against her to ask for another petting.  
  
Heart beating wildly, Hermione struggled to slow her breathing as she stared into the vanity mirror across from her. She looked ghastly pale around the flush of her cheeks.  
  
Flush of her.  
  
"Oh. My. God!" With a flick of her wrist, Hermione sent the covers and Crookshanks flying off her as she tore out of the bed and into the bathroom. Heart beating at an even more outrageous rhythm than before, Hermione raced to the shower and twisted the taps to a driving water pressure.  
  
"No, no, no, no, no," she whispered to herself as she tore at her bed clothes, her wild eyes catching her reflection in the mirror even as she saw Crookshanks enter with indignation. Naked, she rounded on him. "I thought you were supposed to be a magical kitty, you're supposed to know what's going on!" She nearly yelled, throwing an accusing look at him. For his part, the cat looked almost smugly at her.  
  
With a roar, Hermione rounded on the shower, threw open the crystal door and stepping into the beating pound of the scalding water. She found the soap immediately, scrubbing it over every inch of her body before she attacked her hair as if it were a nest of serpents. Nothing was gentle, nothing was sacred as she finished with her hair and then grabbed the bar of soap and attacked her bright red skin.  
  
Twisting the water off, she threw open the door and walked back to the sink, her eyes examining her reflection in the mirror. Her skin was nearly scalded, but not nearly enough. Shaping her right hand like a claw, she raked it across her abdomen, leaving bright white lines that slowly rose into welts. Raising her eyes she looked deeply into those of her reflection.  
  
"Are you listening to me, brain? I hope you're paying attention, because I mean every word I'm about to say, so listen up!" She stepped back, and traced a water droplet as it skimmed over her collar bone, down her taunt stomach, past the four welts and disappeared at the junction of her thighs. She looked up at her own face. "I don't care how desperate we are over Viktor, I don't care how hard up we EVER get for the rest of our lives, we are never, ever, EVER, going to attempt what we were just about to do, while Crookshanks is in the room! Do you understand!? That's just..just, WRONG!"  
  
And with a nod of determination, Hermione Granger exited the bathroom and began her day.  
  
In the corner of the small bathroom, Crookshanks looked a tad disappointed.  
  
* * *  
  
"Hermione!" Morganna called as she rounded the bottom of the Gryffindor staircase and entered the common room. Beside her, Harry stood, while Ron ended his conversation with Dean. She smiled at them all and offered a good morning as she moved to hug Morganna--because she knew that's what the girl needed--before sitting down in one of the large winged back chairs.  
  
Harry was the first to recover, and he sat down, his eyes fixed on hers. "Hermione, you alright? After yesterday--"  
  
Smiling she waved him off. "I'm fine Harry, thank you for asking. After the curse I was a little out of sorts, but Professor Snape managed to help me without killing me." She sighed. "Though he did give me another week's worth of detention for participating in an unauthorized duel, the bloody git; no offence Morganna." She smiled at her friend who only nodded, half stunned at Hermione's calm demeanor. "Anyway, I get the better end of the deal because Snape knew I wasn't at fault, and he's going to let me brew some of the medical potions during my detention, so while I still have detention, it won't be so bad."  
  
Morganna was about to say something when Ron let out a great booming laugh. "Hermione, leave it to you to think brewing potions for a week with Snape was worth all those nasty little spiders crawling all over your--"  
  
"Ron," she interrupted, and her best friend stopped mid sentence to look up at her. "Let's not talk about that anymore, ok? I just kind of want to forget about it. It was.scary, and I'd rather not remember it, alright?"  
  
This Morganna could handle. "Yeah, Hermione, you're absolutely right. Let's just pretend that yesterday never happened! Not Hermione's bug incident, and not Professor Lupin yelling at me for whispering in class. I mean honestly, it's not as if he was saying anything important at the time anyway, just some lecture on safety precautions in a potions lab, geesh!" And Morganna continued her tirade about the injustices of the faculty interrupting her quality time with her friends, at which point she latched onto Harry's arm and didn't let go until they got down to the Great Hall for breakfast.  
  
As they were all climbing out of the portrait however, Ron tugged her a half step behind Harry and Morganna. "Honestly Hermione, you alright? I mean, Snape looked ready to kill something when he saw you in the hallway. Then when Harry snuck out with the invisibility cloak to see Sirius to ask him what Snape had done after he'd made us all go back to class, Lupin made Harry leave without an answer. We were all bloody terrified for you until McGonnagall told us you were fine. I mean, I thought--"  
  
Leaning forward, Hermione kissed his cheek and smiled at him. "Thank you Ron, for everything. I'm fine, really. I don't remember much anyway, just basically waking up, getting yelled at, and then sent back to the tower, that's all that happened, really."  
  
Basically.  
  
But Ron nodded dumbly, a strange expression crossed his face, then wrapped his arm about Hermione's shoulder, and walked her down to breakfast.  
  
* * *  
  
Bubbles rubbed its aching nose as it ambled into the living room and sat down heavily in a small, comfortable little chair. It was grumbling quite nicely about I-Told-You-So's when Spike whined, both paws clutching at its nose as it moaned. "Mean ol'Bubbles, had to say, 'I told you so' to Severus. That wasn't nice at all. Mean words get mean actions, and now our noses hurts. Bubbles is bad, bad, bad!"  
  
"Oh do be quite Spike!" Came Bubble's irritated reply. "I did tell him so. I told him he was a fool for playing with magic he didn't understand. I told him that years ago and he didn't listen, and I told him again, and now look what happened!"  
  
Spike sniffled pathetically as it gingerly tested its throbbing nose. "Bubble's knows that Severus doesn't like I-Told-You-So's, he doesn't like them one bit. Now we have an achy nose, and Severus is in an icky mood, and Spike doesn't think a huggle will help any.maybe not even two huggles!" It moaned again, this time, covering its teddy bear face with both paws as it sat rocking in the little chair.  
  
Bubbles sat up then, glaring deathly at the fireplace as if it were Spike. "Will you shut up about your blasted huggles. Those haven't worked on Severus for years. Why do you insist on talking about them day in and day out?!"  
  
Spike slumped back against the chair suddenly in resigned misery. The change was so sudden and strange that even Bubbles became instantly concerned. "Spike?"  
  
But Spike just rubbed one of its little button eyes and stared into the fireplace, ignoring Bubble's concern. "Bubbles should be nicer to Severus. Bubbles knows what its creator said about Severus and the pretty lady. Bubbles and Spike have to help Severus, we have too! Severus, Bubbles, and Spike have been alone for a long, long, long time. No more Mellisson, no more babies, just Severus, Bubbles, and Spike. But Spike wants the pretty lady to stay; Spike likes Hermione. Bubbles knows that Severus likes the pretty lady too, so we have to be extra special good now so that Severus will keep the pretty lady and make her stay with us forever."  
  
Bubbles touched the side of its cheek, and for just a second, he was touching the side of Spike's cheek. "Spike, I know you miss the baby, but that girl can only break his heart. She's too young, too different from us, and Severus has gone about this all the wrong way. A body bond," it scoffed, "already he's coming to understand just how foolish what he's done is. You saw him this morning, the way he woke up, the magic feeds on them both and eventually, it will bring them only misery."  
  
But Spike shook his head. "No, Bubbles is wrong. Severus was startled, but not mad, Bubbles made him mad this morning by saying 'I told you so', that's why Severus slammed the bathroom door into our noses. Severus likes the pretty lady. And Spike remembers, Spike remembers good, that Severus smiled more with Mellisson and the baby, and that he's smiled more with the pretty lady than in a whole long, long, long time. So Spike doesn't care if Bubbles doesn't like the pretty lady, or thinks Severus is being silly, as long as Severus keeps smiling, Spike is going to keep liking the pretty lady, Hermione." And the small bear crossed his little teddy bear paws.  
  
After a long moment of thoughts, and painful memories Bubbles sighed. "Fine Spike, you win. I'll do my best to refrain from saying 'I told you so' to Severus any longer, but you mark my words, this won't be anything like Severus's courtship with Mellisson, she was his soul mate, and this girl is nothing but just that, a girl." And then Bubbles too crossed its little paws and stared silently into the fire.  
  
Five minutes later Spike reemerged and with a sound that could only be considered a giggle, it squeezed itself around the middle tightly as it fluctuated between itself and Bubbles. "Thank you Bubbles. It's good to be animated with you."  
  
And as the teddy bear changed back to Bubbles for the last time, a cute rosy blush spread across the pink fur as Bubbles offered its self its own little squeeze before saying, "You too, Spike."  
  
* * *  
  
Wednesday was upon them before any of the students could blink, and it was with a heavy heart that Hermione walked into the dungeons. To her left Ron squeezed her hand, while to her right, Harry's tall frame offered her warmth and a strong sense of protection. Walking backwards in front of her, Morganna was talking happily, trying her hardest to lighten the otherwise somber mood of going to potions class.  
  
"Anyway Hermione, you should be happy, I mean tonight's our first tutoring session, right? I'm actually looking forward to learning stuff with you. Ron says you're a pain in the ass teacher, but I still think it'll be fun to learn from you." Morganna smiled brightly, while Ron offered a sheepish grin when Hermione turned to glare at him. "So, what subjects are we going to do tonight?"  
  
Hermione sighed, trying very hard not to shiver as they rounded the corner and she caught sight of the place where she'd been struck by Parkenson's cures. "I guess we'll start with Defense Against the Dark Arts, and then do Care of Magical Creatures, those are two of your better subjects so they should be the easiest to tackle first."  
  
Morganna nodded as she spun around and fell into step beside Harry, batting her eyelashes when he looked down and smiled at her. "Sounds good. Maybe we could get straight to the vampire and werewolves section though, those are the most fascinating."  
  
Hermione nodded absently as she felt Ron suddenly pull more tightly against her. She glanced up at him, and then down the left corridor where he was looking. Her heart nearly stopped in her chest when she saw Draco and the other Slytherin fifth years walking towards them. With a shift of her right hand, she felt for the butt of her wand, tucked safely into the sleeve of her robes, where she kept it now at all times.  
  
But surprisingly, as Draco's gang stopped five feet in front of them, and Harry extricated his wand arm from Morganna's grip, it was Neville that saved them all.  
  
"Uh, um, Hermione?" Came the boys characteristically halting voice. She turned to look at him, offering a weak and very stressed smile. "Um, I was wondering if we could still be potions partners like you said on Monday?"  
  
Malfoy's bright blue eyes were staring directly at Hermione as she deliberately turned her body away from him to address Neville. "Of course we are Neville. In fact, come on everyone, let's go inside and claim our benches."  
  
Ron scoffed. "Yeah, nothing out here to worry about." He said, staring directly at Malfoy, who turned his icy gaze on him.  
  
"I'd be careful if I were you, Wesley. It's never a good idea to taunt a serpent while still in his den." And with that, Draco swept past them and entered the potions classroom. A second later, the rest of his Slytherin entourage followed.  
  
"Wow, is it just me, or is that boy totally creepy?" Asked Morganna, once again claiming Harry's arm.  
  
Harry smiled down at her. "Don't worry about Malfoy, he's always been like that."  
  
"Yeah," Ron interjected. "A prat if I ever saw one."  
  
Morganna and Harry laughed with Ron, but Hermione stood silently thinking. There was something very different about Draco Malfoy this year, something darker. For a brief moment she considered that Draco had already joined the Death Eaters, but just then the final bell tolled and the five of them raced inside to claim their benches.  
  
They made it just in time, because as Hermione looked up, Professor Snape entered from the side storage room.  
  
Tall and thin, with greasy black hair that hung to his shoulders in half formed curls, Professor Snape walked to the podium and immediately began his lecture on a eraser potion they would be working on that day. He looked pale, nearly gaunt, with a hooked nose and dingy yellow teeth that flashed whenever he pronounced the letter "E". She watched him turn to the chalkboard and begin to write the ingredients they'd all be needing for today's potion. He was wearing his customary all black robe, which hung down to brush the ground, just millimeters short enough not to trip him when he walked. The line of his back was straight with force, as if he were being held by a taunt string attached to the stone ceiling. In all he looked positively grotesque.  
  
And then she remembered what he'd looked like in his rooms.  
  
And she shivered.  
  
Up at the board, Professor Snape broke the piece of chalk he was writing with. For a long second he paused, until the entire classroom began to fidget as his suddenly stoic silence. Then with a grace that only he possessed, Snape picked up another piece of chalk and continued with the lesson.  
  
"Uncle Severus doesn't look good, does he?" Morganna whispered from Hermione's left, where she sat at the same cauldron as herself and Neville. She was watching her uncle intensely, and for a moment, Hermione forgot about Snape and reached over to squeeze her friend's knee. She stole a glance behind her and caught Ron and Harry watching them. Harry mouthed if Morganna was all right, and she nodded her head before turning back to the lesson.  
  
When it was time to brew the potion, Hermione sent Morganna off to get the tools they'd need, and Neville off to gather their ingredients, while she stoked the fire and created a little rain cloud to fill their cauldron with water. She looked up in time to see Snape shake his head to a still concerned looking Morganna before ushering her off to finish her task. Hermione couldn't help but smile a little, he really was good with Morganna. As if hearing her thoughts, Snape looked up then, meeting her eyes dead on. For a long moment they stared at one another, and then Hermione looked away, the intensity of his gaze too much. When she hazarded another look, he'd moved on to examine some of the other preparations.  
  
Morganna and Neville returned, and Hermione quickly realized that Morganna was not only good at Potions, she was fantastic. Her hands seemed to know exactly how much was too much or not enough, her eyes, how long to boil and when to cool. She was amazing, and it was with a bit of good natured annoyance that Hermione realized Morganna was even better than she was.  
  
Neville remained as always. He sat to the left of the prepared ingredients, passing the girls the things they asked for. Morganna held out her hand, "I'll take the four Ogling eyes now." Hermione turned as she always did, to make sure Neville grabbed the right ingredients.  
  
"Bloody.Hermione?" She turned at the sound of Harry's voice. "Can you look at this and tell us if we're doing it right. I think Ron stirred too fast and now the bubbles have turned purple instead of green." Hermione sighed, mumbling about Ron's impatient stirring tactics as she stood up on her tiptoes and peered up the riser and into their cauldron.  
  
Behind her, she heard Neville ask Morganna which set of eyes she wanted again, there were four different sets of eyes going into today's potion. Hermione smiled sweetly to Harry and then told him to add a bit more water to the mix, that would cool the temperature and allow the two boys to stir again, this time slower, and she glared at Ron.  
  
She heard it before she saw it. She'd heard it so many times over the last five years she knew the sound by heart. It was the sound of Neville Longbottom tripping over his own feet, followed quickly by the sound of a tipping chair, and then the sound of their wood cutting board hitting the floor with a resounding smack. Hermione drew a deep breath to calm herself before she turned around. What happened next stunned her, and everyone else in the room.  
  
On his knees, Neville was just starting to get up when the first hissing sounds came from the cauldron. There was a bubbling sickly squishy sound that followed, and then suddenly, the sides began to warp and then drip like candle wax. There was a fizzling popping sound, and then the base of the cauldron gave out, and the potion they'd been brewing for the last forty-five minutes cascaded onto the floor before sliding down their riser to ooze onto the floor below them.  
  
But this was no big surprise. Hermione had often been confronted with Neville and melting cauldrons, and it was with a depressed and knowing face that Neville stood and looked regretfully at Hermione who shook her head, already calculating how long they'd have to spend after class today to do it over again.  
  
Unfortunately, Morganna was not at all used to working with Neville-- not at all. In a voice that rose steadily in rage, Morganna bore down on Neville. "What did you think you were doing?! You ruined it! Oh my god! Look at this, just look!" She kicked the squishy mass of cauldron. "How in the nine hells do you melt an iron cauldron?! What are you, brain dead? I asked for the Ogling eyes, and you dump the whole tray in! You-you-you, idiot!" Her face was red with rage, and her hands fisted at her sides as she took another menacing step towards Neville who was already backing away.  
  
Out of the corner of her eye she caught the movement of swirling black cloth, but she ignored it, instead, stepping between Morganna and Neville. "Morganna, calm down! We'll fix it; we'll just do it again. It's fine--"  
  
"It's not fine, Hermione! That idiot," and she pointed her finger accusingly at Neville. "Totally demolished our cauldron!"  
  
Hermione raced forward, ignoring the silence in the room as everyone listened to Morganna's tirade. "We'll get another one. This happens all the time, it's fine."  
  
Morganna's eyes got huge. "All the time?" She asked.  
  
Hermione nodded, watching as Snape came up behind his niece, his eyes hard and angry at the disruption. Knowing that she had to defuse the situation before he did, Hermione nodded to Morganna, before turning back to Neville. "Go get us a new cauldron from the closet, Neville, I'll get the supplies." At the boy's nod, he turned to race for the closet, but Morganna's words stopped him in his tracks.  
  
"I'm not working with him ever again! I'd rather die than share a cauldron with that idiot! He can just work with someone else. I'm not losing points in my best class because we're partners with him, Hermione." And she crossed her arms and stared expectantly at her friend.  
  
Hermione had always been taught to help those less fortunate than herself. She'd partnered with Neville in the first place in the hopes that some of her skills would rub off on him; the best student and the worst student, hoping somehow Neville would balance out in the middle. But here was Morganna, honestly the best potions student in the class, refusing to help Neville because he'd made a silly little mistake. For one very long moment, Hermione Granger looked at her newest friend and saw red.  
  
Then with a crossing of her arms and a withering look, Hermione spoke clearly, enunciating every word. "Neville is my partner, Morganna, and if you don't like it, then you can find yourself another bench to work at." Behind her, Neville gasped, but Hermione wasn't going to back down. He'd been her partner for four years, and if she had her way, he'd be her partner for three more.  
  
In front of her, Morganna's face seemed to fall for the briefest of seconds before she straightened her shoulders. "Fine Hermione, you keep him, and good luck, you'll need it!" Then with a dramatic turn, she marched past her uncle, turned to her left, took the two stairs to the next riser and planted her perky little butt right next to Harry and offered him a sweet smile. "Guess we're going to be partners this year, Harry."  
  
As she turned her eyes back forward, Hermione once again caught Snape's. His look was unreadable.  
  
Behind her, Neville spoke. "Hermione, you-you don't have too--"  
  
Turning around she uncrossed her arms. "Neville, we're wasting time; go get the cauldron and set it up." With nothing more than a nod she walked past his stunned form and went to gather their ingredients.  
  
An hour later as she and Neville packed up the last of their potions equipment in the empty classroom, her partner paused and put a hand over her own. Startled, Hermione looked up. Neville's eyes were moist as he smiled at her. "That was the nicest thing anyone's every done for me, Hermione." And then, without another word, Neville left.  
  
Hermione watched him leave before she turned around and sat down on the bench, laying her head on the desk. The reality of the situation hit her hard then, and she squeezed her eyes against the forming tears.  
  
She absolutely couldn't stand to see Neville treated that way, but Morganna was her friend, and now she'd just ruined that budding friendship. She didn't regret what she'd done, only that it had come to that; and under the surface bubbled anger at the way Morganna had treated Neville.  
  
A sudden slamming of the supply closet door had her bolting from the desk, and for the third time that day, she locked eyes with Snape. But something was different about him again, the hard lines of his back were gone, the cold chill too, he was just a man now, nothing more, and nothing less; she felt herself begin to relax.  
  
He didn't smile, but his eyes softened, and when he spoke there was no iron to his voice, just that smooth velvety timber. "If you have concerns with my niece's reaction to your choice, Miss Granger, I would urge you to dismiss them. Morganna is known for many things, including a fiery temper; but as is with most cases of this personality trait, she burns hot and fast. I imagine she'll have forgotten the entire episode by tomorrow morning." And with that, Snape exited via a door to the left-hand side of the podium without another look back.  
  
But he'd been wrong.  
  
When Hermione's brain had started working again, she exited the classroom and was nearly knocked off her feet by the sight of Morganna leaning against a wall joking happily with Neville, who himself seemed to be in rather good spirits. Morganna's eyes lit up at seeing Hermione, before ducking in shame and then returning. She whispered something to Neville, and then said goodbye before walking over and taking Hermione's potions book.  
  
"I wanted to apologize to Neville about the things I said today." She said, a note of self-anger in her voice. "He seemed to take it alright. I explained that since my uncle teaches the class I really had to show that I was good in the subject. I told him," she paused and drew in a deep breath, "I told him that Uncle Severus is the closest thing to a dad I've got, and I just had to prove that I could be good in potions too. I know I'm not really smart, not like you or my uncle, but potions is the one thing I'm good at, the one thing--well besides singing--and I just had to do my very best. But I did say that that wasn't an excuse for the things I'd said to him.and.called him, and that I'd make it up to him." She beamed suddenly, her eyes aglow with absolution. "I told him I'd give him a signed copy of my American CD, and that I'd give him two tickets to my first summer concert. Then I asked him if he wanted to play a game of wizard's chess with me later tonight. He's really actually kind of nice-- for a geek." She smiled again and shrugged. "So I guess that only leaves you, hu?"  
  
Hermione shook her head. "What you did today, Morganna--"  
  
"I know! It was stupid and childish, and just plain mean! I can't really explain it any better than I already have, Hermione. My aunt says I have a wicked temper and it's totally true, I try and control it, but sometimes, it's hard, especially when I think my uncle is watching. I mean, you wouldn't want to look stupid in front of your parents, now would you? Of course not, and I don't want to look stupid in front of mine--er, uncle that is.  
  
"I'm going to try really hard not to let my diva side get the better of me, promise Hermione. I just, I just need to know that we're ok. That- that you don't hate me or anything." And then all the confidence that Morganna had, from her own inner strength, to what she'd build over the course of her musical career melted away to show that of an unsure fifteen year old girl. It was a sight Hermione had seen before, when she looked into a mirror on those rare occasions when her own self-confidence had disappeared. She couldn't help but relent.  
  
"If you promise, never, ever to treat Neville the way you did today, I can forgive you. He's had it so rough Morganna, you have absolutely no possible idea."  
  
Curiosity warred in Morganna's eyes for a moment before she nodded. "I won't Hermione, I promise. And now that I know Neville's a good friend of yours, I'm going to try and become his friend too. I feel absolutely horrible about what happened, and I'm going to make it up to him." She smiled brightly and looped her arm through Hermione's. "So are we ok now?" With a sigh, Hermione nodded and offered a weak smile. "Good! Now, let's go grab some lunch and then hit the books, as I recall I've got a tutoring session with you, and then a chess match to get too." Her eyes twinkled suddenly, "And then after that, it's back to my diabolical plan of making Harry Potter my boyfriend!"  
  
Hermione couldn't help it, she smiled. 


	10. Chapter 9

Chapter 9  
  
Hermione drew a deep breath and then descended the staircase. All around her hung the portraits of thousands of people, each talking, laughing, and moving from frame to frame as she passed. A low murmur surrounded her, while the grinding of the shifting staircases sounded below. The red carpet at her feet was the path she followed mindlessly, her thoughts centered on her destination.  
  
The Dungeon.  
  
It was the first Saturday of the semester, and while Gryffindors, Slytherins, Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws slept soundly, Hermione would be beginning the first of a long series of detentions with Professor Snape.  
  
The hairs on the back of her neck stood up.  
  
She stopped at the top of the third floor staircase and waited patiently for it to maneuver back into position. Her eyes strayed to a picture frame currently unoccupied. The foreground was of a beautiful garden, with columns of rosebushes and ornate benches along gravel paths. Everything in the garden seemed to glow with its own inner light. But in the background, hung black clouds, and the occasional flash of thunder lit the frame eerily. In her eyes it was the garden of Eden. Lush and alive, with the suffering of evil waiting--always waiting--for light's weakest moment.  
  
A sudden and violent shake of the landing announced the staircase, and Hermione stepped off the platform and once again began her trek down. Five, ten, twenty steps to the next landing, and Hermione stepped onto the final staircase without thinking. But with a lurch the staircase moved, throwing her off balance so that she had to grab a hold of the banister as the usually slow moving stairs shifted at top speed to crash into the far wall. Loosing her footing, Hermione dropped to her seat, one foot slipping completely out from under her before she gained purchase on one of the steps.  
  
Startled, she looked down the staircase before attempting to stand up. But with an earthquake like shake, the staircase had her once again firmly planted on her butt. Frustrated, she gave a great sigh. "You're going to make me late for detention. Now will you please right yourself so I can get going; or I'm not going to be able to get any breakfast first."  
  
To her amazement, the staircase threw itself back and forth, almost as if it were shaking its head 'no'.  
  
With a frustrated growl, Hermione looked over her shoulder trying to figure out where she'd ended up in this labyrinth of doorways. But all she saw was a solid wall, and yet more pictures. Grabbing a hold of the banister Hermione stood and walked back up to the platform she'd landed on. She was about to try once more to plead with the monstrous steps when another picture caught her attention; this one holding her violently still.  
  
It was the same picture as the one above, only this one was reversed. The garden itself was nearly dead. The rosebushes were withered and decrepit, leaves drooping and falling, while dead blossoms fell onto the weed ridden path. Yet in the background the sun rose high and bright in the blue sky, while lazy, fluffy white clouds drifted across the panel. This picture had a small placard set into the frame bearing the pieces title, "Beauty's Garden".  
  
She didn't understand why, but the picture made her decidedly uneasy, made her mind want to cry and laugh at the same time. This dead decrepit thing, this was Beauty's garden? How could that be? Nothing grew, nothing lived. It was simply dead, through and through.  
  
Tension filled her body so that she stepped away from the picture, but the frame seemed to chase her, seemed to demand she pay attention. She took another step back, and bumped into someone rather tall and fuzzy. With a startled cry, Hermione swung around and found herself looking deeply into a pair of mirth filled eyes.  
  
Dumbledore smiled down at her before indicating the painting. "You are not the first or the last to be confused by this painting, Miss Granger. It is a work of art that goes beyond the beauty of the drawing itself." He offered another smile and then stepped past her to touch the placard lightly with his wizened fingertips.  
  
Curious and still a great deal weary of the picture, Hermione moved to the other side of the frame. "Sir, I saw the exact same picture on the third floor, only that one was reversed, the garden was alive and beautiful, but the sky was filled with storm clouds. Why would someone paint two opposite pictures like that and then only label this one."  
  
Dumbledore regarded her curiously before turning to take her elbow and propelling them back onto the staircase. He then took out his wand and tapped the banister lightly. "Third floor, please." There was an empty second, and then the staircase was not only swinging back into place, but was rising upward, and as Hermione looked, each of Hogwart's seven staircases began to shift and float around, swinging left and right, up and down in a dance of stone and red carpet that at once held Hermione awed by the magic of this wondrous place.  
  
With a final daring maneuver, the staircase settled onto the third floor landing. With her elbow still clutched warmly in his hand, Dumbledore escorted Hermione up onto the landing before they both looked pointedly at "Beauty's Garden"'s other half.  
  
For a long time they stood and just looked at it in silence. The turbulent clouds, the lightly swaying rose blossoms; everything about this picture was in total opposition to the frame a floor below. Finally, Hermione shook her head. "It's like the artist got confused, like he painted one light and one dark painting and then cut them both in half before gluing them back together wrong."  
  
Dumbledore looked down at her and offered a soft nod. "I thought much the same thing when I first saw these paintings. I couldn't for the life of me, fathom why someone would paint two pictures in such a completely opposite way." He paused, turning to face her. "One must ask themselves, why do this, why make this kind of statement. Have you any ideas, Miss Granger?"  
  
Something in the back of her mind told her this was a trick, told her immediately she didn't have the knowledge base to answer such a complex question. But she also knew Dumbledore wasn't trying to make her feel foolish, only point her in the right direction.  
  
With a shake of her head, Hermione admitted she had none. Then that warm hand was back, this time on her shoulder, and Hermione couldn't help but smile into those kind blue eyes. "Art is a highly personal thing, my dear. The meaning of art changes based on who is looking at it. I have often considered art one of the truest forms of magic." He looked back at the paining. "Would you care to hear my take on these particular pieces of work?"  
  
Without hesitation Hermione nodded, and the Headmaster turned back once again to look at her; this time, his gaze was penetrating. "I have looked at these paintings again and again over the years, and I've come to the conclusion that the trick is in the word 'Garden'."  
  
Puzzled, Hermione looked back at the painting, seeing the gorgeous flowers, and knowing that in its brother, the blossoms were black with death. "I-I don't understand, Professor."  
  
But Dumbledore didn't answer, instead he placed his hand on the small of Hermione's back and urged her back towards the staircase and then down. They walked slowly together, down first the third and then second staircases before coming to the ground floor. With a gentle push, the Headmaster sent Hermione off towards the dungeons as he turned down the hallway towards the Great Hall.  
  
Hermione was three feet from the large wooden archway leading to the dungeons before she turned around. "Professor Dumbledore," she watched as he turned around at her call. "Sir, sir, why is the word "Garden" so important?"  
  
That twinkle was clearly visible before it dimmed. "It is important to me, Miss Granger, because I find myself wondering often, which parts of the paintings are the true gardens. Is it the flowers either dead or alive, or is it the sky, clear or filled with such rage? If I am seeing two different images of Beauty's Garden, would young Miss Beauty have preferred the flowers of the earth, or the clouds of the sky as her garden?" And then with another soft smile, Dumbledore turned and entered the Great Hall, leaving Hermione with much to think about.  
  
Severus glanced at the clock and cursed softly before resuming his pacing once again. She was ten minutes late. A million scenarios raced through his head. Perhaps she'd gotten sick? Maybe she'd overslept? What if she'd been roped into another one of Potter's schemes and had been hurt? What if his Slytherins had attacked on her way down?  
  
With a growl he looked again at the clock.  
  
The dungeons were cold at nine in the morning, and he forced his pacing towards the fire to stoke it once again. He didn't often give weekend detentions; it was during this little amount of free time that he often spent talking to Morganna or even visiting her in America when he could get away. The rest of the time he engaged in his many passions, from potions to controlling his vast fortune.  
  
Lately, he'd taken to thinking of her.  
  
Slumping into his chair he considered his newest past time. It was no longer a weekend activity; no, now it was taking over nearly every waking moment. He thought about her as he readied for the day, he watched her at breakfast, during classes he wondered how she might have answered the questions he posed to the other students, lunch again found him watching her, between classes he worried that one of his Slytherins might attack her again, then it was back to dinner to watch her laugh and correct her merry gang. But the worst, the absolute worst, was that he dreamed about her.  
  
His dreams were innocent enough. Most nights found them sitting together over a cup of tea discussing things he couldn't quite hear. Others involved props like chessboards or a potions set. In those dreams he didn't wear the glamour he'd created, his face was as it was meant to be, and she would often comment on it, little things he knew came from his own self-consciousness, "It's like I'm seeing you for the first time", "You look different tonight, Severus."  
  
Severus, she always called him by his name in the dreams, and the way she said it—it was like nothing he'd ever heard before. Part of him knew it was his imagination, and he scoffed at the very idea that the cynical Professor Severus Snape could have an imagination, let alone one that produced a woman who made his name sound sinful, but the other part of him remembered that he'd once had the type of imagination to brew extraordinary bedtime stories that would have even Mellisson enrapture.  
  
Then there was his dead wife.  
  
Sighing, Severus stood and returned to pacing the classroom. When he wasn't thinking of her, he was thinking about Mellisson. Would she be furious? Would she blame him for dreaming about another? Part of him knew she wouldn't, that she'd have wanted him to move on, to be happy; and yet, some small hidden part of himself told him, that Mellisson—like all women—could say one thing, and mean another.  
  
Pausing he turned to look at the door, willing Hermione to enter. To his very great surprise, she did just that.  
  
Breathing heavily, Hermione burst into the room, throwing a look of guilty fear at him before lowering her gaze. Turning, she took hold of the door and slowly pushed it shut.  
  
Suddenly, they were alone, the only two people in the room, the only two people who would ever know what went on. He felt that lightening streak of adrenaline race through him as he watched her bring a hand to her breast, still trying to catch her breath. His mouth went dry. It was such a strange feeling to have once again. He could remember watching Mellisson that first time out in the sun, and like now, the picture in his mind seemed to slow, so that he could catch every detail, from the way her hand lifted to brush back her hair, the way her robes parted a few inches when she drew those deep breathes, the way her lips parted as she swallowed, the way....  
  
"You're late. Explain." Like a shield from his own inappropriate thoughts, his arms came up to cross over his chest, and he knew his face was like granite. It usually amused him to know that he could change his appearance so rapidly, but today it annoyed him, he didn't want to frighten her.  
  
Strangely, she didn't seem to notice his change in demeanor, she drew one final deep breath and then squared her shoulders before walking towards him. Her voice was still a little breathless. "I'm sorry Professor Snape, the staircases trapped me on the way down, and then Professor Dumbledore saved me, but we noticed a painting on the wall and he insisted on going up to look at the other one, and then—well, I'm late. I ran as fast as I could, again, I'm sorry."  
  
The staircases had trapped her and Albus had saved her? Something about that sounded very much like a set up to him. "What do you mean, the headmaster insisted that you look at a painting, didn't you tell him you were already late for detention?"  
  
The glaring look she gave him, had him struggling hard to maintain his stoic face. She very nearly huffed as she answered. "I wasn't late when I came down, I was early even. I was going to eat breakfast when the staircases shuffled out of the way and I couldn't get down. Obviously I was a little upset, so I didn't think about checking the clock when Professor Dumbledore found me. Further, I didn't think it was my place to say anything when he insisted on going back up to the third floor to see the other painting."  
  
His mind worked overtime with the information. When he came upon the answer, he groaned inwardly, but decided he might as well find out if Albus was truly interfering. "You said this 'other painting' was on the third floor, exactly, which painting were you referring too?"  
  
Rightly so, she looked a little stunned by his question—since when did the horrible Professor Snape give a hippogriffs tail about art work—but after a moment of indecision she stated calmly, "Beauty's Garden."  
  
He was SO going to kill that crazy, matchmaking, old coot!  
  
"Fine," he said as he turned back towards his desk, not letting her see the burning color of his cheeks. "Do not be tardy again, Miss Granger or I will be forced to give you yet another weeks worth of detention to teach you how to tell time." Not that he wouldn't mind having her all to himself for seven more Saturdays, no that thought sounded fine to him, but she might, and if the huff she made was any indication, she minded quite a bit.  
  
He decided to ignore her. "You will sit here," he said, indicating the desk directly in front of his own. Moving beyond, he rounded his own desk, and bent down to retrieve a basket of scrolls, each one tied with either Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw colors. When he straightened up, he saw she was seated neatly in chair, her hands folded before her on the desk.  
  
As a teacher, he was thankfully, not one of those men who found a young woman in a pleated school uniform even remotely attractive; he did however, find her tan dress slacks and cream colored sweater a bit distracting. With her black robes to outline her adult body, he found himself quickly turning his attention back to the basket of scrolls.  
  
Part of him wanted to be cruel to her for making him feel this way, but it was a small part; the majority of him reveled in the ability to feel this way again, and was only slightly disappointed in the fact that he couldn't openly pursue her as he had Mellisson. On the other hand, he suddenly thought, it might fun to use his acquired Death Eater skills at subterfuge to get what he wanted, namely, Hermione Granger.  
  
So many different ways to play the same game; so many different ways to win the prize.  
  
With a smirk to himself, Severus dropped the basket onto the desk before her, watching her eyes dilate as she took in the dozens of scrolls. He cleared his throat, waiting until her eyes were once again on him; he was going to enjoy this.  
  
"Before you is a stack of essays, you will grade them all before leaving. Do you have any questions?"  
  
Her large brown eyes grew even larger. He could almost hear her mind working. When she finally managed to ask her question, it was with disbelief in her voice. "Sir, you...you want me to grade these essays?" She stressed the word grade.  
  
He smiled down at her, and then quickly correct himself, when her eyes grew even larger. "I was under the impression, Miss Granger, that you took great pleasure in correcting your fellow students; it seemed to me, that you might enjoy this task." It was so hard not to smile again as she struggled not to appear too pleased with the fact that he was trusting her to grade a few papers—ah, but the best was yet to come.  
  
"Yes Sir," she said, and then stumbled, realizing she'd all but admitted to being a know it all, before shaking her head, "I mean, no Sir." Then she realized she'd denied the task. Finally, she just grabbed the handles of the basket and pulled it towards her. "I'll get started, Professor."  
  
He nodded, turning swiftly back to his desk to hide his smile as he retrieved a quill and bottle of red ink. Handing them to her, he returned to his desk and took out his own quill and ink set before reaching a hand into the pile of fifth year essays on enlargement potions, all the while watching as Hermione undid the first blue ribbon scroll.  
  
Let the game begin.  
  
She wasn't quite sure how to handle the new confidence that Snape seemed to have in her abilities. More than once he'd called her an insufferable know it all, and now he seemed to think she did know it all...or at least third year silencing potions.  
  
Every now and then she'd look up from the scrolls she was grading to see if he was staring at her, to check and make sure he wasn't trying to catch her- -oh she didn't know--cheating some how, grading Hufflepuff papers wrong. But he never seemed to be looking at her, instead he continued to work meticulously over his own basket of scrolls. Every now and the he'd dip his quill into the bottle of red ink, but mostly he read with an every changing display of looks upon his face. Sometimes he wore no expression, while other times he scowled down at the papers in disgust--that was when he usually reached for the ink well. Every now and then he's nod his head, roll the scroll back up, and put it away. It was those lucky students that received Snape's approval. Hermione wondered if her scroll had been one of them.  
  
Shaking her head slightly she returned to the task at hand. Reading through a scroll, she'd quickly assess the work before offering constructive criticisms and grading it before stacking it neatly in a pile beside her. She's had 45 to start, and with a stack nearly four rows high now, she was almost done.  
"Miss Granger?"  
  
Started at the sudden break in silence, Hermione jerked her head up to look directly into pitch black eyes. "Yes Professor?"  
  
"I see you have not yet finished grading those scrolls." She nodded, there were still about 10 left in the basket. Snape gave a deep sigh and then stood. With his dark grace he moved to the glowing fireplace and tossed in a hand of powder. Dobby's head was immediately visible.  
  
"Professor Snape Sir, what can Dobby be getting for you?"  
  
Without sparing Hermione a glance, he gave his order. "A selection for two from this afternoon's lunch fairs, and a pitcher of pumpkin juice. Also, two butterbeers from the stores if you please, Dobby."  
  
"Dobby is most pleased to be serving you, Professor Snape, Sir. But beggin' yer pardon Sir, Nata is wanting to bring you the food herself, Sir, if this is alright?"  
  
Snape's back was to her, but Hermione had a very strange impression, that when the potions master answered in the affirmative, he might have been smiling when he said the words.  
  
"Dobby will be telling Nata right away. Dobby knows Nata will be very happy to see her master." And with that, Dobby disappeared and the fire went from green to red.  
  
Master.  
  
The word hung over the room like a thick blanket. Even when Snape returned to his seat and continued to grade, Hermione felt sick to her stomach just hearing that word. She'd spent years trying to show people that elves were living, breathing, knowing creatures that deserved the respect of wizards the world over; not the back of their hand and scornful words.  
  
She knew the whole history of the elves. How they'd once been a proud race of creatures but had been enslaved by a ruthless wizard nearly a thousand years ago. Now wizards and witches took them for granted, expecting elves to do their bidding, not caring that elves could feel or think for themselves, had dreams and desires, hopes and--  
  
"What is it, Miss Granger?"  
  
"What?" Started out of her thoughts, Hermione looked up to find Snape watching her, his black eyes seeming to burrow into her soul. She wanted to tell him, wanted to yell and scream at him that he was a cruel man, even more so than she's thought before. To enslave a fellow creature of the world--it was worse than being a Death Eater.  
  
But in the end, all she could say was, "It's nothing, Professor."  
  
His eyes never left hers, and she was too proud on this topic of justice to look away. But Snape wasn't your ordinary teacher, he seemed to read minds, and this was no exception. Maybe he knew her better than she thought, maybe he'd heard about S.P.E.W. Whatever it was, the conversation wasn't over yet.  
  
"You dislike the notion that I own a house elf." He said slowly, his accent thick as his eyes narrowed ever so slightly.  
  
That was it! Sitting to her full height, Hermione Granger took a deep breath and gave her most hated professor the death-glare of a lifetime. "Excuse me Professor Snape, but you do not own anything! No freethinking, loving, caring creature can ever be owned. You can spend time with them, love them, or even hate them, but you'll never truly own something that's sentient. So yes, Professor, I very much dislike the idea that you think you own anything, especially a house elf." She finished proud and determined, her voice clinging to the air about them like fog, thick and heavy.  
  
She thought he'd sneer, instead he continued to stare at her. "Miss Granger, Wizarding Law states that house elves are servants, just as in the old days of human kind. As a muggle born, I'm sure you're aware of slavery."  
  
Suddenly furious, Hermione stood, her chair tipping over in her haste. "Are you daring to suggest that slavery of human beings is justified in anyway, and thereby drawing a conclusion that it is perfectly acceptable to enslave house elves because of a horribly degrading stain on human history? How can you even suggest such a thing? Have you any idea what it's like to be a slave, what they go through?!"  
  
Just as quickly, he rose, and even though he was a good five feet from her, he seemed to tower over her with his taller frame. When he spoke, his voice was haunted and his eyes blank. "Yes, Miss Granger, I know exactly what it is to be a slave. In fact, I know more than you will ever know yourself from reading ancient texts and holding freedom rallies."  
  
He was right. Suddenly, the anger drained out of her, and Hermione saw that the man before her was just that, a man. He'd had his dignity stripped from him long ago, and all that remained was a puppet, strings being pulled both by Voldemort and Albus Dumbledore.  
  
With his gaze so intensely blank, she couldn't bear to look at him any longer, and she turned away, busing herself with righting her chair and sitting back down. She didn't look at him, but when she heard him sit, she couldn't help but pose the question, "If that's true, if you know what it means, then how can you say you own another creature?"  
  
He sighed, and the sound made her look up at him. He looked suddenly tired and perhaps a bit angry at himself. "Because, Miss Granger, that is the way things are."  
  
"But--"  
  
Snape shook his head. "No 'buts'. Some are made to be masters, others to be slaves, there is no getting around the programming we are born and raised with."  
  
She shook her head. "No, I think your wrong Professor." She watched him closely to see how he'd react, but he simply looked at her. "If you were right, and we were simply stuck with the roles given to us at birth, I'd never be here, I'd never be in the wizarding world. Harry would never have been taken from it. And Morganna would have never become a world famous muggle singer.  
  
"We're put on this earth to do something with our lives, to make a difference." She paused and looked at him, seeing she had his full attention. "I mean, well, people all over the wizarding world think your...well, think you're a Death Eater," she paused again to see how he'd take this conversation path, but when he again did nothing, she took that as her cue to continue. "But you're not. Your life is dedicated to changing the way people think, by eliminating Voldemort and bringing peace back to our world. You didn't just follow the path you'd been given, you made your own path. Something's you'll spend a lifetime paying for, spend a lifetime trying to change, but you made a difference, and that difference means that paths can be changed. And...and if paths can be changed, then wizards can learn to understand that house elves have feelings and emotions, and have every right to be free." She held his eyes, "Just like muggles realized with non-Anglo-Saxon human beings."  
  
His gaze was penetrating, it was as if he could see into her very soul, weighing her words and her convictions behind them. He opened his mouth, no doubt words of wisdom beyond her years about to pour forth from a man who'd seen too much, lived too much; but in the end, his actions spoke louder than words ever could.  
  
There was a popping sound from the vicinity of the fireplace, and Hermione turned just in time to see a large serving tray bound through the hearth before it clattered to the ground and a very pudgy, three foot high elf burst into the room and ran straight for Snape.  
  
"Master Severus! Oh, Master Severus!"  
  
Some men are born great, and others have greatness thrust upon them; whichever Severus Snape was, Hermione was now, more than ever, proud to know this incredible man.  
  
The smile that broke across his stoic face was genuine, as was the large opening of his arms as he welcomed the elf that wept with happiness to see her master. "Nata," was all he said, but he took her into his arms and held her in a fierce hug that rendered Hermione breathless. It wasn't a pose you ever expected to see Severus Snape use--not ever.  
  
"Oh, Master Severus, Nata has so much to tell you! Nata has been visiting all sorts of places, and she has brought back all kinds of stories to tell Master Severus and the twins!" The little elf hugged Severus once again. "It is so good to be getting home again though, sir, so good indeed. And I did what you told me, yes, sir, I even got a special something just for Nata, and it was a beautiful pair of mittens, in red and purple! Yous've been so proud of Nata, Master Severus, so proud of little Nata!"  
  
That smile was still there, and Hermione could hardly prevent dying from seeing him bend his head and lightly kiss the top of the house elf's head. "I'm so pleased to hear that you had a good vacation Nata. It was one well deserved, and you should take them more often."  
  
But Nata just shook her head. "Nata is thinking it was a good adventure, but she is even happier to be bringing Master Severus something to eat." Then, as if remembering, she ran back to the tray and lifted it high above her head before carrying it to Severus's desk. With a wiggle of her fingertips, the food--which had been jostled by the sudden drop when Nata had seen her master--instantly righted itself and split into portions for the two guests.  
  
Having gotten to his feet, Severus walked to the desk and inspected the food. "Thank you, Nata, the selection is wonderful." Then he looked up, and caught Hermione's stunned expression. "Nata, I'd like you to meet Miss Hermione Granger."  
  
The house elf turned then, and bestowed upon Hermione the most beautiful of smiles. "Dobby has told Nata much about you Miss Hermione. Dobby has said that you are friends with Harry Potter, and that you is trying to free the house elves." Nata moved towards Hermione and extended her hand to shake. "Nata is most happy to be making your acquaintance Miss Hermione, and if there is anything you'd be needing, Nata asks that you call upon her at any time."  
  
She couldn't help it, with a smile, Hermione shook the elf's hand. "Thank you Nata, it's nice to know that not all the house elves hate me."  
  
"Oh no," said Nata, shaking her head wildly as her little puppy ears shook as well, her large eyes growing even larger. "Oh no, Miss Hermione, not all the house elves hate you at all. In fact, Dobby and Nata went just last week, and only most of the elves hated you."  
  
With a laugh, Hermione squatted down before Nata. "Well, that is good news. I'm very glad to hear that you had a lovely vacation, Nata. It's good to know that Dobby has some company in the kitchens as well."  
  
And then, the funniest sight she'd ever seen in her life happened. With tan skin, house elves looked very drab, like the clothes they usually wore. But all at once, Nata's whole face turned a bright, neon pink and she covered her tiny nose and batted her eyelashes. "Well Miss Hermione...Nata is thinking it is very nice to have company with Dobby herself." And then with that and a puff of smoke, Nata disappeared in a way only house elves could--with wandless magic.  
Slightly taken aback, Hermione turned to look at Severus and was rewarded with a smile and a twinkling of his eyes that suddenly reminded Hermione of Dumbledore. She stared at him openly for about five seconds before he shook his head and moved to sit at his desk. "Nata's a bit taken with Dobby as I'm sure you can tell."  
  
Nodding, Hermione walked over to the desk, and then went back to drag a chair up along side. A million thoughts raced through her head all at once, but the one that stuck out the most was the one she voiced as Severus removed the cap from her Butterbeer. "You let her go on vacation."  
  
He scoffed, not pausing in his task. "I demanded she take a vacation. The little thing would work herself to death if she could."  
  
"But why?!" The question was irrational, completely and utterly, but Hermione couldn't help but ask it. "Why do they insist on killing themselves over their own enslavement?"  
  
Severus all but shoved a plate into her hand, then sat back and ignored her question, munching on a bunch of grapes before taking a swig of his butterbeer. With no answers seemingly forthcoming, Hermione absently twirled her pasta using a fork and spoon.  
  
"It's because," Severus broke the silence after another swallow of butterbeer, "they have nothing else." He held up his hand when Hermione tried to protest. "Hear me out. For a thousand years they've been mistreated, one after another. When the braver ones are born, like Dobby, they're immediately considered outcasts by wizards and their own kind. No one wants to be an outcast. So they fall in line, each doing what their parents did, and so on down the line of succession."  
  
Hermione took a sip of her own butterbeer, shivering a little at the warming sensation that filled her throat and stomach. "But why don't they fight. They have a power no other creature in the world does, they can do wandless magic, real magic."  
  
Severus shook his head. "They used to be much stronger, stronger than even wizards." He cocked an eyebrow at her when she stopped eating. "Didn't know that, did you?" He asked, and when she shook her head, he continued. "You won't find it in many books, in fact, you'll never find it in a book outside the restriction, restricted section. It's taboo to talk about it, and indeed most wizards don't even know about it."  
  
And then he grabbed a bit of bread and took a bite. Hermione was on the edge of her seat, the fork full of pasta three inches from her open lips. She felt as if she was on the verge of learning some great mystery, of finally uncovering that which she'd needed to know for so long.  
  
"Eat, Hermione, before it gets cold." Severus indicated the fork full of pasta, and it was to the credit of this great secret that Hermione didn't realize for a full week he'd called her Hermione instead of Miss Granger. "Xare Von Agerhine was the first wizard to enslave house elves. This you already know, but what you don't know is the reason why. Oh the books say he was annoyed with them, but that doesn't begin to describe what happened.  
  
"It's rare you see, to find a house elf that could be considered normal looking, let alone beautiful, but long ago, elves, not house elves were beautiful creatures found only in the deepest of woods." He took another bite, and Hermione did as well, not wanting to break the spell that had come over Severus. "Xare was like most wizards, crude with newly developed wands. Simple spells were the best he could do, but the man was clever, and he set out to find an elf and get it to teach him more complicated spells.  
  
"He traveled for many years, some accounts say nearly 20 before he found an elf dwelling. As he hid himself, he saw a beautiful elf taking her evening bath. No one knows what she looked like, only that her beauty was beyond belief. We know her name was Aquina, and she was the daughter of the elven price. There are many different accounts of what happened next, but suffice it to say Xare managed to kidnap Aquina and demanded that she teach him the advanced spells. Her life in danger, Aquina relented, and taught Xare everything she knew. The task took years, and during this time, Xare took advantage of Aquina and she bore a daughter, Nindy.  
  
"But as Xare grew stronger, Nindy grew uglier. It seems elves and humans were never meant to breed together. Nindy grew so ugly that Xare could not bear to look at her, and threw her into the cellar and continued on with the lessons Aquina taught him. But Aquina was desperate to protect her daughter, and secretly taught her all the magic she could under the cover of night.  
  
"When the time came, and Xare knew all Aquina could teach him, he threw her into the cellar as well and went back to the deep woods to find the other elves." Severus paused then and looked at Hermione, curious as to how she was handling the story. Whatever he saw, at least he continued.  
  
"For the first time in many years Aquina was able to see her daughter, and the sight was so repulsive to her that she bore her own eyes out rather than see the monstrosity that had come from her own womb." When Hermione gasped, Severus paid her no mind. "But Nindy had become a strong magic user over the horrifying years, and she quickly freed herself and her mother. Then the two of them went to the deep woods to warn the other elves.  
  
"But when they arrived, the elves were so horrified by the sight of Aquina and her grotesque daughter, that they turned the two away without ever hearing what they had to say." Severus shrugged, "Consequently, Xare arrived and quickly enslaved all the elves, who had no idea a human had obtained such magical powers.  
  
"A private man with great ambition, Xare kept his conquest a secret, and silently moved from one deep wood to another, enslaving more and more of the unknowing elves. Jealous of the beauty of the male elves, he slaughtered them, and bedded the females, with the outcome always the same, deformed offspring.  
  
"By this time in the story Aquina disappears. It is believed she died somehow. What we do know is that Nindy moved from deep wood to deep wood, searching for her kind, only to be turned away for her appearance. Finally, time and destiny caught up with her, and Nindy came to the deep wood of Britain, now called Sherwood Forrest of the famed Robinhood." He smiled when she blinked, "Oh yes, Miss Granger, there is more truth than fiction to the haunting of Sherwood Forrest, for you see, it was here the great race known as elves died out.  
  
"Xare had come to enslave the last remaining group of elves, and Nindy, his now adult daughter, had come to save them. However, Nindy did something different this time, she cast a charm over herself to make her look like her mother. She hoped that with her appearance changed she'd have a chance to warn the elves and be heard. The problem was, Aquina was said to marry the prince of Sherwood Forrest, and when she disappeared the prince had become enraged. When he saw Nindy wearing the face of Aquina, he allowed his anger and embarrassment to impair his judgement, and he struck her down. When she tried to warn him anyway, he silenced her with magic. She was unable to warn them due to a prince's vanity, and because of that Xare came and slaughtered the males and enslaved the females."  
  
"That...that's horrible." Her hands were shaking, and tears swam in her eyes for Nindy and the other elf females. "How-how could Xare do such a thing?"  
  
"Power." It was one word, but it was enough.  
  
Severus continued. "Xare rounded all the females up and was stunned to see who he thought was Aquina. Unable to speak, Nindy could not change her appearance, and so she was led to Xare's bedchamber. I'll spare you the details, suffice it to say Nindy became pregnant, and bore Xare a son named Edoss, who was even more grotesque than the other children born to Xare.  
  
"Disgusted with the legions of deformed children, Xare decided to turn a profit. He sold his own children as slaves, and when his children ran out, sold the elf females as well. They were scattered across the globe, all but Nindy disguised as Aquina.  
  
"Xare held a most cunning power, and with the threat of elves forever gone, he set out to teach wizards and witches the spells he'd learned from Aquina and the other helpless elf females. He became rich and powerful, a wizard looked up to by so many from his day and age. Later, he changed his name, and it is by that name that history records his deeds."  
  
And then Severus was silent, staring into the bottle of butterbeer now empty in front of him. Horrified by the tale, Hermione found herself desperately wanting to know more, and praying she never heard another word. But in the end, she had to know.  
  
"By what name did history record him, Professor?"  
  
Severus shook his head and then turned to look her full in the eye, piercing darkness against calming brown.  
  
"They called him Merlin, Miss Granger, the greatest wizard ever known."  
  
Somehow, she'd known. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she'd been sure of it, and yet her stomach turned all the same as she thought about how often she's looked up to the bearded wizard of legend.  
  
Shaking her head, half attempting to bore the tale out, she asked the burning question. "What happened to Nindy and her son?"  
  
The smile that came to Severus's face then was sickening, and Hermione chose to look down at her food rather than at his face. "That is of course the purpose of this telling. Nindy, having been locked away in the cellar for all those years was without a stitch of education. What I mean is, she could neither read, nor write. Now think this through, Miss Granger. Had Nindy been able to write, could she not still have warned the last remaining clutch of elves? Could she not have warned them as she'd dedicated her life to doing?" He paused and waited, and still not looking at him, Hermione nodded. "So you see, Nindy herself, the first of the species we would call house elf had no education, and was therefore, the first of her kind to be likewise enslaved."  
  
Slowly, her mind working overtime, Hermione's eyes rose to lock with those of Severus'. She shook her head as if to deny her own conclusions, but Severus nodded. "Yes Miss Granger, that which enslaves the race has nothing to do with their lack of conviction to be free, they simply do not understand the meaning of the word. They speak because man has taught them how, they do wandless magic because it is in their blood to do so, but other than that they know very little." He paused then, his eyes solid with conviction. "In other words, S.P.E.W. can do nothing for them, because they must want to be free before they can be, and to desire freedom means they must understand what it means.  
  
"Do you understand, Miss Granger?"  
  
Lunch all but forgotten, she stared openly at him, analyzing his words as her brain worked to calculate the sheer volume of the change he'd made in her life. Hesitantly, her mind still working, she answered. "You're saying...that the next step is not to...to get wizards to free the elves...but to get the elves to desire their own freedom."  
  
"Yes," he said, sitting back in his chair. "But it's not so simple as that. You've tried for ages to get elves to take vacations and ask for compensation, and as Nata said, you're hated nearly Britain over. Therefore, if you cannot make house elves desire something by simply telling them about--"  
  
"Then I need to make them understand what they're missing! That's it! That's what you mean, isn't it?"  
  
A simple inclination of his head was all he offered, but it was enough. Suddenly it all fell into place. She couldn't force house elves to desire freedom, she'd have to show them what freedom was, in and over itself.  
  
Pushing back from the desk and standing, she dragged the chair back to her desk and quickly picked up the next scroll to be graded. Her mind was split between grading the work and her new mission.  
  
Without another word, Severus cleared the dishes and got back to work himself, using substantially less red ink as he continued.  
  
An hour later, Hermione presented the graded basket of scrolls. "Will there be anything else, Sir?"  
  
Eyeing her, Severus leaned back and contemplated her. "I think that's enough for one Saturday, Miss Granger. Be on time next week." And with that, he settled back into his chair and went back to grading papers.  
  
But Hermione wasn't done. Clearing her throat, she got his attention. "Sir, I have just one more question." He nodded for her to continue. Drawing a deep breath, she pressed forward. "You never really answered my question about what happened to Nindy."  
  
Severus smiled, as if to himself, "Nindy, was eventually sold like the rest of the house elves. However, Nindy had a taste of freedom in her, and she passed that freedom onto her children, and they passed it onto their children and so forth. Every now and again, an elf like Dobby is born, desiring more than what he has, but Nindy's offspring were all born that way. They are the elves that favor you, Miss Granger, the ones Nata and Dobby have encountered on their short excursions."  
  
When Hermione left that day from Saturday detention, she knew something powerful had been born inside her. She'd changed due to a few hours with Severus Snape, a change that began a movement of unprecedented proportions. 


	11. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

The Quills and Quotes shop was deserted when Hermione dragged Morganna, Harry and Ron in nearly a month after her first detention. There was a slight jingle to her walk, but she managed to sneak behind Harry and stop Ron trying to escape before the job was done.

"Hermione!" Ron whined as they entered the cool shop, little dust moats floating around in the beams of sunshine that filtered in through the crowded streets of Hogsmead. Students were enjoying the first week of October, and the ensuing Hogsmead visit. "Why in the world are we here again? I swear, Harry and I have way more important things to do than follow you around all day. There's a round of butterbeer, then a nice jaunt to the joke shop, then back again for another butterbeer, before heading to the candy store, and then back again for more butterbeer. Did I happen to mention that we should be having a butterbeer right now? But noooooooo, you think we need to be buying a few quills—"

"Ron!" Cried Morganna, rounding on him. "Will you please just shut up! I don't want to be here anymore than you do, but Hermione asked us to come, and we're going to help her out. Now shut up and stand there looking as sexy as I know you know how!" Turning Morganna offered her a quick wink and a roll of her eyes as Ron turned to look around, stunned that Morganna—possibly the sexiest girl in school—had just suggest that he might be…'sexy'. Hermione fought hard not to laugh when Harry too rolled his eyes at Ron before turning to look at a display of expensive eagle quills.

"What exactly are we looking for, Hermione? You've been so secretive about this whole thing." Harry turned to look at her, one hand clutching a white eagle quill he was inspecting.

She had been rather secretive lately. But in reality, between their new grueling schedule to get ready for the O.W.L.s, tutoring Morganna, detention every Saturday with Snape, and her Prefect duties, she was hard pressed to find time to do anything, let alone explain her master plan.

Smiling, Hermione turned to gift Harry with a smile. "You'll see Harry. Honestly, I think you're going to agree that this is a brilliant plan. I've been working on it for the last month and I'm sure you'll think just as highly about it as I—"

"Hermione, not getting any younger here!" Sighed Morganna as she leaned her head against Harry's stunned shoulder. Harry straightened just a little. "Just tell us the plan so we can go do some shopping. I'm not wasting my first Hogsmead visit in ages, just so you can—"

Harry turned to her, "You've been to Hogsmead before?" He asked, a little stunned.

Ron cut off her reply. "Harry, what did you think, only Hogwarts' students got to go to Hogsmead? My family's been coming since before I was born. All wizarding families come here, it's like, like, like a tourist spot or something!" He ended lamely looking a little exasperated.

Blushing a little, Harry said, "Oh." And then turned back to examine the quill. Morganna glared at Ron and then sidled up to Harry, asking him why he liked that quill over the others.

Turning, Hermione went up and down the three isles, looking for a durable, smaller than average, quill, preferably cheap. With a great sigh and a look of disgust at the goggly eyes Harry was making towards Morganna, Ron turned and followed Hermione. Occasionally, Ron would pick up a quill and present it for inspection, and after three rejections, asked what Hermione was looking for. With the schematics known, Ron found the brand his mother had purchased when Ginny was still learning how to write in primary school. Testing it, Hermione found it to be exactly what she was looking for. With a nod of thanks to Ron, she approached the counter and the middle-aged man.

He had a quiet but happy smile for her and Ron as they approached. "Find what you were looking for, Miss?" He asked, indicating the quill she laid on the counter.

"Yes, thank you, this one will work just fine." She turned to glance at Ron briefly, hearing Morganna and Harry approach her from behind. "I was wondering, how many more of these do you have in stock?"

The man gave her a skeptical look before shrugging his shoulders good naturedly. "Well, I'm not quite sure to be honest. How many do you need exactly?"

This was the moment of truth. Taking a deep breath, Hermione ignored Ron and looked directly at the man before her. "Actually, I need one hundred and thirty-eight of them." At the man's stunned expression, she hastened to add, "Please?"

"Have you gone mental! What'd'ya need all those quills for? Even you can't break that many in one year." Demanded Ron, sounding extremely disgruntled.

Already defensive, Hermione rounded on him. "It's none of your business, Ron. Even if I told you, you'd only make fun of me, and I've thought about this too much to let you stop me now. All, I'm asking is that you help me carry them back to the castle later today, alright, so just, just, don't ask!" Huffing, she turned back to the man and glared at him, daring him to say anything; but for his part, he just stood there, looking stunned.

Morganna moved away from Harry then. "Um, would you excuse us for just a minute?" She asked, grabbing a hold of Hermione's arm and dragging her a few feet away from the counter. "What exactly is going on, and don't give me a line like you just gave Ron."

Sighing, Hermione looked up at her friend and saw true sincerity in her eyes. She and Morganna were now closer than ever, having spent at least an hour a day together during tutoring sessions, and another hour doing regular homework together. On Sundays, the two of them usually tried to have a little fun by the lake while it was still nice, but had taken to gossiping around the fireplace in Gryffindor tower now that the weather was turning cooler. Morganna was slowly turning her into a regular teenager, concerned with hair and make-up, boys and fashion. Likewise Hermione's studious nature was having at least some effect on Morganna; she was at least skimming her chapters rather than all out refusing to read them.

In all, their friendship was strong, and while they didn't agree on all points, Hermione knew Morganna wouldn't raze her as bad as Ron would when he found out. "I'm buying quills for the house elves. I'm going to teach them how to write and read." She paused watching for Morganna to laugh at her; when she didn't, Hermione pressed on. "And, next semester, I'm going to teach them how to paint. Professor Dumbledore gave me permission to take the house elves for an hour a week for lessons."

Morganna's expression was blank for a moment, then, "Um, ok, let me get this straight. You're going to teach the house elves how to read and write, then teach them how to paint." Hermione nodded. "And you're going to do this why?" She asked, now sounding very skeptical.

Hermione looked down at the quill she was still holding, thinking back to the conversation she'd had with Snape a month ago. "Because I realized…I can't force elves to be free, I have to show them that there's something worth being free for. I have to show them there are things out there worth doing besides cooking and cleaning. I have to, Morganna, I just…it's just something I have to do. Can you understand?"

Morganna looked back at Ron and Harry who where trying to appear nonchalant as they struggled to hear what Hermione was saying. Finally, she looked back at Hermione. "Well, I guess…well, I guess it's kind of like how I have to be the first to buy the new Bebe line before anyone else can get their grubby little pop icon hands on them and ruin the look with their trashy selves. Please note I did not name any names in that sentence—Brittney Spears!" She coughed a little towards the end to try to cover up the blond bimbo's name. "Anyway, I get it, it's just something you have to do, I'm kewl with that. Ok, let's get those quills and get our strong, capable boys to carry them home for us. Oh! One sec., why are you waiting to buy the paintbrushes?"

Hardly able to believe her ears Hermione rushed forward. "My dad gave me some extra spending money since tuition was paid for by Hogwarts this year. Anyway, I've only got enough for the quills right now, but I'm going to ask for more over Christmas so I can buy the brushes and the paint for next semester. As it is, Professor Dumbledore said he'd raid the supplies and get the ink and parchment I'll need; because, let's face it, the house elves are going to take a while to get the hang of it, now won't they?"

She wasn't ready when Morganna laughed in her face. Wasn't ready when her dark haired best friend dragged her back to the counter, and wasn't at all ready when she pulled out her own purse and dropped it on the counter.

Morganna smiled once each at her, Harry and Ron before turning back to the man behind the counter. "Mr. Rizon, my best friend Hermione is taking it upon herself to teach the house elves at Hogwarts how to read and write, and how to paint. As she's going to come up a little short in the paintbrush department, I'm offering to supply her with the additional funds she'll need, provided—" and at this she turned to look at Hermione, "I get to teach them how to sing and dance. Now, if we're all in agreement?" Hermione could do nothing but nod her head. "Good, then we'll take however many of these quills, and ten extra in case they break, and the same number of paintbrushes." Morganna turned back to smile at Hermione. "Well? You better go get the brush you want so Mr. Rizon can see if they have enough in—whoa, ok, now, alright, uh, Mione, I can't breath already."

Hermione had Morganna in a death grip around the neck, hugging her so tightly she thought she'd never let go. Fighting back tears, she couldn't believe that Morganna was doing this, or that she seemed to want to help. But mostly, it was that she hadn't made fun of her, hadn't insisted that house elves were supposed to be treated like domesticated dogs.

"Thank you, Morganna, oh thank you so much!"

The dark haired girl laughed. "No problem, girl, I think it's a great idea! I mean, those poor little creatures deserve to be treated like everyone else, and if you think teaching them how to read, write, paint, and sing will work, then I'm all for it! I think only uncivilized wizards are so insecure with their own magical abilities to enslave those cute little guys to clean their sheets for them, I mean come on!" And with that statement, Morganna turned and gave a very pointed glare at both Ron and Harry, daring them to say anything—anything—against her on this point. Both boys remained silent, and Harry even smiled a bit to placate the starlet.

Hermione couldn't help but smile. Taking Morganna's hand, she squeezed it before dragging her back down the last isle to find a suitable paintbrush.

After finding what she was looking for, and getting approval of the handle's color from Morganna, Hermione went back up to the counter and gave it to Mr. Rizon who smiled kindly to her before taking both the brush and the quill into the back to see if he could find the required number.

In the silence, Ron cleared his throat, and Hermione prepared herself for whatever was coming next. "Um, Harry and I were wondering, that is, I mean you can't hope to do this all on your own you know, there're way too many of those things." He held up his hands in surrender when she glared at him for the world 'things'. "The point is, Harry and I want to know what you…I mean…"

Harry sighed. "What can we do to help, Hermione? Ron and I aren't too good at drawing, but we can sure read ourselves, how hard could it be to teach someone else?" He shrugged and then offered her a smile that went all the way to his green eyes.

Once again stunned, Hermione gaped at him. "Are you serious?"

When Ron went to shake his head 'no', Harry elbowed him. "Yeah," sighed a defeated Ron, "we're serious. But I'm not wearing a bloody name badge, you got that? I'm not wearing anything that says spew on it!"

And Hermione, giddy with joy, didn't have the heart to tell him it was S.P.E.W.

Ten minutes later, Mr. Rizon was just boxing up the quills and brushes. "Since you ordered so many, I thew in a few extra, you've got 150 each, that should get your lot threw the early lessons of quill holding, at least if they're careful." He smiled secretively at Hermione. "Now, I couldn't help but overhear that you'll be getting ink and parchment from Dumbledore." Hermione nodded. "Well then, now you've got the brushes, but haven't got the paint."

"Oh, no." She hadn't thought about that at all. Ink was one thing, but paint, in all those colors, and in the quantity they'd need to teach an elf's first art class, it was way more than she could expect from either Dumbledore or Morganna. "Well…I guess we'll get the paint when we can—"

"Don't be silly." Said Morganna, reaching into her robes for her money pouch again. "Hermione, if you need it, we'll just get it."

"No, Morganna, you've done too much already. I'll never be able to pay you back for the brushes."

Morganna looked slightly insulted. "Pay me back? Who said anything about paying me back? I know I didn't. Hermione, I've got more money than I know what to do with—well, I mean, I know what to do with it, buy all the clothes on the Paris fashion circuit, but honestly, I'd never have time to wear them all before they went out of style, now would I? The point is, if I can't spend money on a good cause, then I'm just going to spend it on myself, and that's kind of a no-no, for those in the public eye, I mean look at Paris and Nikki Hilton?"

But Hermione shook her head. "Really, Morganna, between your singing lessons, and the reading and writing, it's probably better to wait for the painting."

But Harry jumped in. "No, Hermione, maybe it's better to let the house elves choose what they'd like better, painting or singing. Here," he reached into his pocket and pulled out his own purse. "I've got ten galleons, I'll give you half of them—no, here, just take seven, that'll leave me enough to buy a few things at Zonko's and get a butterbeer."

"Oh, oh Harry." She was speechless, just staring at Morganna and Harry like they were the two most giving, wonderful people in the whole world.

And it seems it was a look Ron wanted bestowed upon himself as well. He reached into his robes and extracted his own purse. "It won't help as much as seven galleons or whatever Morganna gave you, but you can have the money I was going to spend on butterbeer." He smiled at Harry. "Besides, this idiot owes me a few anyway since he bet me on our last three games of chess."

She knew the tears were swimming in her eyes, and with a great leap she crushed Ron in a gigantic bear hug before releasing him to kiss him on the cheek; then repeated the same thing with Harry, ending with an extra long hug for Morganna.

With a laugh, all four of them pooled their money onto the counter before stepping back and smiling at each other. However, Mr. Rizon made no move to count the money, only continued looking at them all and smiling that secretive smile.

After nearly half a minute, Hermione's smile began to dim as she waited for the man to count the money. "Um, sir, I don't know how much the quills and brushes are going to cost, could you tally it all up and then tell us how much we have to buy paint with?"

With that continued smile, the man began sorting through the coins. His voice was light as he spoke, the smile still present in his timber. "As I was going to say, Miss, it would seem to me that this is an excellent way to get our name out to the newly educated house elf population. So, if you don't mind, I think Quills and Quotes would like to donate two cans of every color of "The Movement of Color" line of paint; that is, if you think the elves could use it?" And he smiled even brighter as Hermione leaned over the counter and gifted him with his own hug and chaste kiss.

After a few shrinking charms, and a happy round of butterbeers, the four friends met up with Neville and started back up the path to Hogwarts.

They decided that it should be Harry who entered the kitchens first. He walked in followed closely by Hermione, Ron and Morganna. Together they smiled and laughed, joked and talked with Dobby and the others, who were most excited to see them again, inquiring over and over if they'd like a cuppa, or some sugar cookies. Ron accepted both, a little put out about having lost the chance at his second, third and forth butterbeer, but he was more excited when Morganna asked if Hogwarts stocked any and was rewarded with four bottles.

Harry learned that Dobby had taken his first vacation, an event that lasted only one day, but included a wonderful trip to Sock World, a lovely store where he'd managed to acquire three new pairs of horribly striped orange and purple socks. Harry listened, while Morganna sat beside him on the bench, listening intently to every word he said, while Ron tried to weasel another few bottles to take back with him.

Hermione smiled kindly to Winky who was seated by the fire, and occasionally she found the little elf listening to them, paying close attention to Morganna. The other house elves piped in with a few uncharacteristic words of their own, and Hermione was delighted to hear them talk with earnest, even if it was about polishing the silver with Madam Wilkins Buff'n'Gone cloths. For Hermione, hearing the elves talk about anything that they found interesting or enjoyable was a start. She knew she'd need to find things they could relate too, things they'd want to learn about, otherwise they'd resist learning, even if Dumbledore insisted.

She wasn't surprised, when, an hour into their visit, Dumbledore meandered into the kitchens looking as if he hadn't expected to walk in at all. "Well, I dare say, this is quite a surprise. I was headed for the library, and I must have taken a wrong turn at the five armored men; you'd think by now I'd know that the man on the fourth corridor likes to wander the hallways in October."

The house elves rushed to give him anything he needed, and even pushed a few crumpets on him. Dumbledore never asked how they'd managed to find the kitchens, in fact, he was most careful not to ask. As the time wore on, even Winky joined them and nearly three hours after they'd arrived, Dumbledore cleared his throat, and Hermione knew it was now or never.

"My dear elves, I would first like to tell you once again, how delighted I am at your continuing success in making Hogwarts the most beautiful it's been since the Sishiba disaster of 1649. It never ceases to amaze me how brilliant the armor can shine, or how wonderful the food can taste. As such, I have tried repeatedly to get all of you to take some time off, to enjoy the fruits of your labor." The room around them, once beaming with pride at the praise, was now stone quiet, as if waiting on pins and needles for what was to come.

"As most of you know, Miss Granger has long advocated on behalf of house elf wellbeing, using an organization called S.P.E.W. I have it on good authority that Dobby has informed you all of its aims." A few of the house elves nodded, most remained stone-faced. Dumbledore continued, "Well, Miss Granger would like for me to inform you all that S.P.E.W. is now disbanded." Some of the elves smiled and Winky gave a whoop of joy that irritated Hermione just a tad. "However," Dumbledore smiled, "In its place, Hermione has asked that we try a new approach, and I've agreed.

"From this day forward, every Sunday, house elves will be required to take an hour long course on reading and writing. An idea which I wish very much I'd come up with myself." And with a wink, Dumbledore turned his charming smile back onto Hermione and the others.

Clearing her throat, Hermione thought carefully about her next words, as the apprehension on the faces of the house elves continued to grow darker. "Well, as the Headmaster said, each of the Hogwarts' house elves will be given reading and writing lessons, courtesy of myself, Harry, Ron, and Morganna--"

"Whoa! Wait a minute, Mione, you didn't say anything about me needing to teach reading and writing." Said Morganna, her face a mask of displeasure.

Hermione quickly compensated. "Oh, right, right, Morganna will be teaching you all…um, art and music."

"Totally!" Announced the pop princess. "I'm going to teach you how to sing like a rock star, and dance like Madonna. You'll all totally kick butt when I'm done with you." A twinkle appeared in her eye as she stood up from her seat; the elves around her following her every move. "I'll teach you to hit high notes during the chorus, and get your freak on hott enough to steam up the entire castle. Just you wait, you'll all be Mandy Moores and Brittany Spears'…only, without the drama, bad videos, and ex-boyfriends."

Hermione cut her off. "What Morganna is trying to say, is that each of you will get a chance to choose whether you'd like to learn to paint, or sing and dance. Doesn't that sound like fun?"

If the room could have been more silent, they would have been able to hear the dead. Even Dobby was silent as he stared--large goggle eyes fixed on Hermione and her outlandish proposition.

In the back, some of the elves started to shake their heads slowly, not wanting to appear disrespectful to Dumbledore, but unable to hold back their opposition. As Hermione watched, her heart began to plummet. This was a good idea, they just needed to give it a chance.

Then, from one of the darker corners, Nata appeared carrying a charred stick from the hearth. She walked slowly over to Hermione, offered Morganna a full smile, and then presented the stick to Hermione. "I's be wantin' to learn Miss Hermione. I's been wantin' to learn fer a long, long time."

Suddenly, Dobby stood as well. "I's want to be learning too, Miss Hermione. Dobby is very excited to begin his lessons." And he sat happily next to Nata, who blushed a neon pink that had Ron choking on his swig of butterbeer.

"That's the spirit." Proclaimed Dumbledore as he stood. "Miss Granger, I'll be most eager to get a progress report from you in a month's time." Then he smiled at the children and bid them goodnight before exiting the kitchens.

Hermione expected the elves to raise a fit then, but to her great surprise, others approached Dobby and Nata, sitting on the stone floor. Their large eyes stared at her and the others before they began whispering back and forth in a language Hermione did not know.

To his great credit, Ron broke the tension. "So…um, can I get another butterbeer?"


	12. Chapter 11

Chapter 12

The next Saturday found Hermione on her way to the dungeons for another day with Professor Snape. The evening before, he'd sent an owl to her Prefect room telling her to come to the dungeons at exactly 9am, dressed in warm winter clothing.

So that morning she awoke at 6am, showered, dried off, and stared dumbly at her reflection in the mirror, cocking her head left and right, analyzing her appearance. Her damp hair hung in half formed curls down over her shoulders and she tugged at a strand with her fingers trying to decide if she should curl it or straighten it.

Normally she didn't give a fig about her appearance, but for some reason, the notion of having to dress in warm winter clothing for her detention today had her mind a whirl with possibilities. It was mid October, so the necessity of warm clothes seemed assured, no matter what Snape had up his sleeve, but still, she wondered.

Taking her wand off the counter where she'd perched it, she pointed it at a lock of hair and set her wrist into a twirling, circular motion. As she watched, the piece of hair seemed to move of its own accord, twinning around an imaginary finger into a corkscrew. A simple charm later and the curl was dry, perfect and shinning.

She knew her hair was rather bushy, but it was so time consuming to worry about such trivial things as hair styling. Too often she just ran a broad brush through it and set out for the morning not caring what it turned into by the morning's end.

But today was different. She didn't want to admit it to herself, but it was.

Pointing her wand at another strand of hair, she repeated the process.

Half an hour later her reflection showed a teenage girl with creamy skin and a head full of light brown, corkscrew curls, with shinny blond highlights. Again she turned from left to right, this time analyzing her face. She smiled, flashing brilliantly white teeth, straight and perfect. Her buckteeth now gone, Hermione's smile was very pretty; and as she allowed the smile to touch her eyes, she thought she looked very fetching when she smiled.

And then she noticed the red spot. It suddenly seemed to be a flashing red beacon in the middle of her forehead even though in reality it was nothing more than a very pale pink mark nearly in her hairline and to the left of her face. She stared at it in horror, as if her own body had suddenly betrayed her.

Throwing open the cabinets, she pulled out the jar of Madam Milken's Bump B'Gone and applied a sizable dollop to the offensive mark. When that didn't work to her liking, Hermione replaced the jar and opened up the cabinet under the sink.

What lurked in the cabinet under the sink would have stumped any boy, magical or not. Hiding in the darkness was a thing no boy could ever really comprehend--and if the truth be told, something Hermione hadn't been able to truly comprehend until just this past summer. It seemed foreign, offensive, and sexist, and yet, at this very moment, it was the key to her self-imposed drama.

From the depths she pulled out a little black bag with a tiny zipper that ran the length of it. Taking a breath, Hermione took one more look at her reflection and then pulled the zipper open.

Three dramatically horrible attempts later, Hermione's reflection now showed a very different teenaged girl. This one still had the light brown corkscrew curls on a creamy skinned teenaged face, but dramatic changes had also been wrought.

Her skin was now flawless and covered in a soft layer of light power. Her cheeks had a slight rosy look to them, while her lips were just a little redder than normal and very glossy. But it was her eyes that changed the image of a teenaged girl. Kohl rimmed and smoky, her eyes now looked, darker, older, more mysterious, and alluring. There was an Egyptian quality to the slight upsweep, and the curled eyelashes widened her eyes.

In all the young woman that stared back at Hermione from the mirror did not look like much of a teenager, instead she seemed older, wiser, and a little more daring than Hermione had ever felt in her life. As a smile passed over her face, and the corresponding image smiled as well, Hermione was pleased with the transformation.

Walking out of the bathroom, she crossed her room to the bed and sat down upon it, eager to take a break from the mirror. However, a glance at the clock gave her a terrifying jolt and she raced into action; she only had an hour to find something to wear!

"Filius, this is quite a surprise as I was under the impression the Charms conference lasted through the end of the weekend." Greeted Dumbledore as he motioned the much smaller man into his office and onto his customary pile of books he used for a chair.

The smaller man nodded eagerly, and then seemed to somber as he took his seat, his right hand going for a pipe he fished out of his robes. In a high, squeaky voice, he answered, "Yes, yes, Headmaster, quite true, but I felt I had to return immediately once I realized how vitally important this new discovery was."

For a moment Dumbledore watched him quietly as the younger wizard lit his pipe and pulled a few deep drags, the smoke emitting a faint aroma of cloves. "It's been quite a few years since I've seen you pull out that old thing, my friend, perhaps you should tell me what has finally forced it from your pocket," Dumbledore finally encouraged.

Nodding his head again, Filius Flitwick took the pipe from his mouth, tapped his index finger against it twice and then brought it once again to take another drag before resting his arm in his lap.

Immediately the mood in the room became more somber, the meeting of two friends suddenly had more purpose. Over his crooked nose, Dumbledore's eyebrows rose, but he remained silent, letting Flitwick collect his thoughts.

After a few minutes, the Charms professor caught Dumbledore's eye and nodded once to himself before beginning. "This year's guest speaker was Iltimeda Shonright, a brilliant witch trained in Charms and Arithmancy," he began, his eyes never leaving the Headmaster's. "She spoke about a new charm that required a Charms Master to perform, but on just the right person at just the right time…quite an astounding feat could be wrought."

With a patient nod, Dumbledore waved his wand and produced a tea set offing Filius a cup, "Yes, thank you."

After another minutes delay, Filius continued. "The merging of multiple magical disciplines is what separates the great wizards from the good ones. The ability to intermingle the disciplines is something I know you're aware Headmaster, is very difficult--especially in a single lifetime. But Mistress Shonright is brilliant as I said, and she's found a way," he paused, not for dramatic effect, but in an effort to find the words to make this announcement more bearable. "Well, she's found a way to let the dead speak through the living--the ones that for whatever reason did not choose to become ghosts." He finished lamely, his eyes no longer able to hold those of his friend's.

Nothing more needed to be said, Dumbledore rose from his seat, his stance clearly agitated as he walked to his cabinet, unsealed the magical lock, and took out his own much abandoned pipe. He stuffed and lit it, drawing deeply the soothing smoke. Turning around, he walked back to his chair and sat, his posture tortured as he took another pull.

"The ability for the dead to speak through the living--those, who did not choose to become ghosts," he repeated, watching as Filius' head nodded at first enthusiastically, and then a bit more melancholy.

"I-I know this is hard to hear, Albus, but I thought it relevant; enough to rush back to Hogwarts to tell you personally."

Absently Dumbledore nodded, his mind racing with the possibilities of this interdisciplinary development. "Have you told anyone of this, Filius?" The little man shook his head and Albus nodded, "Good, good. This will need to be kept quiet for now. I'll send for Vector."

He rose, but Flitwick's sudden gesture caught his attention so that Dumbledore turned instead of moving towards the fireplace. "But, but, aren't you going to tell Severus first? Shouldn't he know what you're planning? I-I mean…"

But Dumbledore shook his head. "Severus has other things he needs to be concerned about right now. The mystery of Mellisson's death, of how Voldemort could have been in two places at once, has haunted him for 14 years. I dare say, we should have Vector check the charts to see if we have a suitable candidate before we mention this to him." He paused and then continued towards the fireplace before speaking again, his voice suddenly tired and pained. "Besides, I couldn't bear to see his face if Carlena couldn't find a suitable match." So with that, he took a handful of floo powder and said, "Carlena Vector!"

She was happy with her choice.

As Hermione traveled the dark and chilly staircase down to the dungeons, she thought she'd made the right choice. Feeling as if her shoulder blade length locks were too bouncy and flighty, she'd pulled her hair back into an up-twist that cascaded curls down across her neck. A few escaped her attempt to tame them, and instead floated around her face.

Her makeup was as she'd last arranged it, and she smiled to herself thinking how sophisticated it looked with her hair up. Around her was her favorite white wool coat that danced around her knees with every step she took.

At the bottom of the stairs she withdrew her wand from her left sleeve and then proceeded into the torch lit corridor. Ever since her run-in with Pansy the month before, Hermione was careful to follow Professor Snape's instructions to be wary when she traveled into Slytherin territory.

Besides, she never wanted to see that look of disappointment on Snape's face again--it haunted her.

Turning left she followed the broken cracks in the floor until they came to…a set of feet?

"Hello, Granger," came a slow drawl; one part loathing, two parts contempt, "Need someone to show you down a dark corridor or two?"

Wand tight to her body, Hermione searched the shadows and found the telltale outline of Draco's body, leaning against the cold stone of the hallway. Dressed in a dark gray sweater and matching slacks, he blended in with his surroundings almost perfectly. Absently, Hermione wondered when his corn silk blond hair had turned a much darker shade of dirty blond. Straightening her back, she prepared to match wits with a snake in his den.

"No thank you. I'm perfectly capable of finding the potions classroom on my own--I have been doing it for five years now, you know." She said haughtily, her nose going slightly into the air even as her grip on her wand tightened.

Malfoy smirked and took a step away from the wall. He was getting tall; nearly as tall as Harry, but while Harry was still gawky, Draco had developed some of the muscle tone to go with his lengthening body. Striking an imposing figure directly in Hermione's path, Draco went in for the kill, and began circling around her in a shark like fashion.

"Interesting outfit, Granger, and the make-up's a new look for you. All for detention? Only date you can get with a cauldron, then?" He smirked, coming round to stand once again in front of her. "Or someone else, hm?" He cocked his head to the right, and Hermione suddenly realized Draco was watching her to determine the truth.

Not daring to consider his words, Hermione rolled her eyes. "If you must know, Professor Snape told me to dress warmly today for detention. I assume I'll have to perform some dreadful task outside."

At this Draco smiled, "Yes, something dreadful I'm sure." But the way he said it, the haughty tone to his voice, made Hermione think he didn't believe her.

"Yes, now if you'll move aside," she trailed off as to her surprise, Draco did indeed move; taking up position against the wall again, one knee bent, foot against the wall as he leaned back, his eyes watching her.

She moved past, her fingers twitching against the wood of her wand.

"Granger," came the sudden call from behind her; and though she didn't turn around, she did stop. "The eyes are a good touch, makes you look older, more mysterious," the smirk was back in his voice. "More like a Slytherin."

Not wanting anything more to do with Malfoy and his confusing dialogue, Hermione continued down the corridor to the potions classroom. Taking a deep breath, she pocketed her wand and then checked her watch, 8:58am, she was a little early. Snape liked people either early or on time.

Hermione entered the classroom and was slightly taken aback. On the chalkboard at the front of the class, a collage of letters were written. Some were big, other small, some overlapped, while others were just scattered around the board barely touching. Looking around, she approached the head of the class. By this time, Snape was usually in the room, but instead the room was empty, everything just as it should be--except for the chalkboard.

Curious, Hermione walked up to the board and tapped her wand on it, "Rigoritus!" Instantly, the letters began to move around the board. Some flip flopped, while others did a crazy jig, while still others maneuvered right through each other, all in a mad dash to get to exactly where they were supposed to be.

When the message was decoded, Hermione read it.

_Ms Granger,_

_I regret I was unable to meet you in the classroom as I am making arrangements for our departure. Please go to the fireplace and floo yourself to my quarters._

_S. Snape_

Floo to his quarters! She'd been there before of course, but to actually go there of her own free will, well she just couldn't! It was improper, indecent, just, well, just plain…

"Snape's quarters." She said clearly before the tugging, whirling sensation happened in the pit of her stomach. She didn't even remember moving towards the fireplace.

Stepped out of it quickly, she braced herself on the high mantelpiece as she drew in deep breaths of air. She hated wizard traveling methods.

"Hermione!" Came a sickly sweet voice from behind her, and Hermione turned just in time to see Spike latch itself to her leg trying desperately to hug her. "You came back! You came back!"

Hermione giggled and bent down to scoop up the childlike familiar. "Of course I came back, silly." She said smiling all the while scratching the pink teddy bear just behind its left ear. "How have you two been," she asked.

Silver eyes turned gold, and the carefree teddy bear suddenly took on the stiffer persona of Bubbles. "We were quite well," it paused, then said, "until you arrived."

"That's no way to speak to our guest."

His voice was smoke and darkness; hidden mysteries and black magic. He could stop a room with just his voice, but as Hermione's eyes darted across the room, she suddenly realized the sight of him could as well.

He was leaning against the door jam, his shoulder and hip hitting it, while his arms crossed over his chest and a smirk played across his lips. The sweater he wore was almost black, but Hermione could see that the true color was closer to the darkest green she'd ever seen in her life. He matched it with midnight black slacks that were pressed and lined to perfection, while a pair of smart black shoes finished it off.

His hair was freshly washed and still damp at the ends; pulled back with a tie, a few shorter front pieces softening the look. In his arms he carried a long black wool coat, and Hermione had a feeling that if he were to put it on and button it, he'd look exactly as he did when he taught potions--tall, imposing, and striking.

In her arms Bubbles coughed, and Hermione felt heat flood her cheeks as she realized she'd been staring unabashedly at Professor Snape. Bubbles squirmed, "I'll take a picture for you, you stupid girl, it'll last longer," it said, managing to get free of Hermione's grip and jumping to the floor.

But just as it hit, gold turned to silver, and Spike was back, its indignant voice even more shrill as it raged at its partner. "You are so rude, rude, rude, Bubbles. Pretty, Hermione was scratch, scratch, scratching us behind our left ear and you made her stop with your meanness! You need to be punished! Punished, punished, punished! Into the potty!" And with that, the tiny bear began to race around the wing-backed chair to get to the privy through Snape's bedroom.

Snape's bedroom.

Hermione shivered.

So did Snape.

At the last possible moment, Snape bent down and snatched up the waddling teddy bear, cradling it in his arms as he walked the rest of the way into the room. He draped his long coat over the back of the chair, then indicated Hermione should take a seat on the couch opposite. She nodded silently, sinking onto the couch and trying very hard not to stare.

He was absolutely gorgeous--when had that happened!

"We need to wait for the portkey paperwork I filed with the Ministry to come back. Once we have clearance we can be on our way." Came that smoke filled voice again, but Hermione was too afraid to look up; too afraid she'd start staring again, so she just nodded and pretended to find her hands very interesting.

She heard shifting around, and couldn't help but look up. Across from her, Snape had settled into his chair, his ankle resting on his opposite knee as he absently scratched Spike's head and watched her watching him.

Without conscious thought, her hand went up to touch her hair. She fidgeted in her seat, looking away and then looking back, each time realizing that Snape's eyes had not once moved from their target--her.

She cleared her throat, hoping that would help, but Snape continue to stare at her, his fingers working softly at Spike's fur. Giving him a smile, she looked back at the fireplace, and then turned back, again only to see him watching her.

Finally, she couldn't take it anymore. Opening her mouth to ask something, anything to break the atmosphere, she was immediately cut off when Snape spoke.

"You look lovely today, Hermione."

The movement of her eyes was slow as, in her shock, she raised them to lock with Professor Snape's. Heat rose in her cheeks, and as she watched, his eyes seemed to grow wider, larger, more illuminating until she thought she could see her own reflection in them.

Suddenly, she turned away, the weight of that stare more than she could bear. Her eyes traveled the room, while her heart felt a sense of disappointment that she had not acknowledged his statement.

Biting her lower lip, she looked towards the fireplace and watched the flames. After what seemed like an eternity she looked back at him, offered a weak smile, and then said, very softly, "Thank you." He nodded.

A faint tapping came from the only small ceiling window in the room, and Hermione looked up to see a small brown owl, no bigger than Pigwigeon tapping at the glass. At a rustling sound, she turned back in time to see Professor Snape raise his wand and open the window. The little owl zoomed in, circled their heads once, and then dove for the back of Snape's chair. Once on the back, it shifted down to the arm, and then presented its leg where a small roll of parchment was tied.

Without dislodging Bubbles, Snape removed the paper and indicated a forgotten biscuit on a tea tray for the owl. As the bird took a bite and then left out the open window, Snape unrolled the scroll and read the contents. Nodding to himself, he rose and crossed the room to a waste paper basket before extricating a broken quill.

He turned back to Hermione, "The ministry has approved the portkey, shall we go?"

Nodding, she rose, her hands immediately going to smooth out the imaginary wrinkles of her snow-white coat. She watched Snape perform the complicated portkey charm and blinked when the broken quill suddenly flashed brilliant green.

Walking over to him, her hands didn't know where to go. At first they were in front of her, then her sides, back in front, and finally, behind her back. When she looked up, Snape was smiling a bemused smile at her. "Are you ready?" She nodded again, taking another step towards him, now no more than a foot between them. His smile suddenly changed from bemused to something different, something darker as his left hand reached out and took her by the elbow, dragging her closer, the broken quill now pressed between them.

The next thing Hermione knew, his voice was whisper soft and so close to her ear she could feel the heat of his breath stirring her hair. "You just have to touch it, Hermione."

Suddenly a swirling feeling happened in her mind. Light became softer, emotions stronger, reasoning more fuzzy. She felt the tug to be close to him all consuming, the desire to be next to him undeniable. She wanted him, needed him, had to be closer, had to touch him, needed him to touch her in kind.

The room was too small, the space between them too large, and Hermione found her chin tilting up, her eyes locking with the darkest black she'd ever seen. She drew in a deep breath, her eyes widening at the smell of him before drifting to half-mast over the intoxicating aroma of sandalwood and sage. On her own, she brought her body flush against his; the quill pressed between them as her hands went up to his sweater, fisting the material. Her breath caught, her chest constricted, and her cheek fell against his sternum, her body fitting and molding itself against him in an unconscious desire to get closer to him. Beneath her ear she could feel his heart beating, not wildly, no, it beat just slightly faster, slightly stronger, with sureness and vitality--it beat with passion, just as hers did.

The hand that was once at her elbow snaked its way up her arm. Long fingers played against the wool of the jacket, and tantalized her with their barely there feeling. The hand slid up over her shoulder and then came to rest against her neck. At first it pressed against the softness of her turtleneck sweater, then, as if it had to be closer--needed to be closer--fingers slid over her hair and then back down along her neck, moving the sweater out of the way and bringing flesh to meet flesh.

Both shivered.

Hermione pressed even closer, her fingernails biting past the sweater into his flesh.

His own fingers pressed into the muscles at her neck and she moaned, feeling him stiffen against her.

The quill hit the floor soundlessly, and then two hands were around her, too arms pulling her tightly against a tall male body. The new hand was beneath her coat, and her breath caught as that hand dipped low over her bottom and then slid back up; the flesh of his hand coarse against the soft smoothness of her lower back.

She exhaled sharply, her hot moist breath filtering through the sweater.

He shivered and moaned.

Hermione shivered and moaned.

Every part of her ached, every muscle turned and burned with this all-consuming need. She moved against him, desperate for his assistance, desperate for him to help her with this growing longing that raced through her blood and pooled low in her body.

His fingers flexed and Hermione mewed, her right leg sliding forward, her hip bumping against something solid and yielding. Above her, he drew a deep and sudden breath, his face low and against her neck, his breath sending shivers straight to her spine.

"Hermione…"


End file.
